


Brothers (Unfortunately)

by marshmellow_sirel



Series: Consquences of our Actions [1]
Category: LazyTown, Spy Next Door
Genre: Death Threats, F/M, I can't believe I wrote this thing, M/M, Minor Violence, Siblings AU, This may've gotten out of hand..., holy shit, pink is a natural hair color, this got out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9799370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmellow_sirel/pseuds/marshmellow_sirel
Summary: Sportacus's long lost (one that wishes stayed lost) twin brother visits Lazy Town. It doesn't go well.





	1. Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [@life-is-full-of-games](http://life-is-full-of-games.tumblr.com/) for inspiring this fic with their siblings!au.
> 
> EDIT: I've added ~~a better~~ an ending because I'm going to try and continue this, sorry for any confusion.

A sunny day in Lazy Town, the children were playing, the hero was refereeing, and the villain was napping. A normal day in Lazy Town or it would’ve been if the low flying plane didn’t disturb the peace atmosphere. Everyone  craned their necks to look up at the sky to see the small plane circle over town and land just outside the main gates.

The kids gathered together in the center of the sports field buzzed with excitement. “Oh wow,” said Ziggy. “We almost never have visitors.”

“I mean, we do, but they’re usually Robbie,” said Trixie.

Sportacus hopped onto the far wall, across from where Robbie stood in front of his napping bench, to watch the stranger, a blond man in a dark suit, climb out of his plane. Sportacus watched him button his jacket with a black gloved hands, a large watch glinted in the sunlight, and he saw how the lines of his tailored jacket skewed ever so slightly beneath his arm. Sportacus’s mouth was set in a thin line.

The children watched too, “A pilot,” said Stephanie, “That’s so cool.” She bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement, “I wonder if we can look at his plane because—”

“No,” said Sportacus. He hopped off the wall to stand in front of the kids. “Go inside and stay there. You will not speak to this man. Ever.” The kids stood in front of Sportacus, their eyes wide in confusion. There was no mirth, no levity, nothing in his voice. Robbie leaned on the low wall and stared, too.

 “Uh,” Stephanie asked, “Is everything okay, Sportacus?”

Jaw tense as he watched the stranger approach over his shoulder, “Please,” said Sportacus. The main gate of town creaked open. The kids leaned to look past Sportacus to try and get a better look as the stranger walked towards the sports field. “Go home.”

Trixie and Stehapnie tried to speak at nearly the same moment. Stephanie possibly wanted to comment about how Sportacus wanted to them to play inside; but Trixie, louder and with confidence, spoke instead. “Hey, he kind of looks like you, Sportacus, is that your brother?”

Robbie slammed both hands onto the wall and his mouth opened in a silent, ‘What’ as he leaned to look at the stranger. He jumped, albeit clumsily, over the wall and strode up to Sportacus. Arms crossed and eyebrows raised, Robbie looked at Sportacus and glanced at the stranger back at Sportacus. An extended pointer finger emphasizing his glances, ‘brothers?’ he mouthed at Sportacus.

Stingy asked, “Why can’t we meet your brother, Sportacus.?”

“I don’t have a brother,” said Sportacus. “Go home, kids, please. I will not ask again.”

None of children were used to hearing Sportacus speak so sternly, it unnerved them to say the least, Ziggy especially as tears welled up in his eyes. Stephanie glanced at Sportacus and put on her best smile, “Come on, guys, let’s go play that new video game that Pixel got. That okay, Pixel?”

“Huh? Oh, Mecha-Lizards 8000? Yeah, I’ve been dying to play it on co-op,” said Pixel as he started to walk home. “Wanna bet Piggy on a match, Stingy?”

Stingy followed behind and held his piggy bank close, “Never. Piggy is MINE.”

Stephanie giggled and wrapped an arm around Ziggy, who frowned as he chewed on his lollipop. “Come on, Ziggy, we can play second. Winner plays Trixie, how does that sound?” Ziggy mumbled a response around the lolli in his mouth and shrugged his shoulders. “Great, come on.” They walked faster to catch up with Stingy and Pixel while Trixie trailed behind to watch the stranger approach Sportacus and Robbie with his arms open.

“Brother,” said the stranger in a thick Russian accent with a smile on his face.

“I called it,” said Trixie loudly and Stephanie urged her to keep walking forward. “No, I totally called it, Pinkie.” Stephanie looped her arm around Trixie’s to pull her along.

“Anton,” said Sportacus without reciprocating any warmth.

Robbie glanced between the twin brothers and blinked twice before the realization settled in his gut. He looked at the ground and tried to slowly leave the area. Wrong move. Anton noticed him. Anton looked at Robbie, and dropped his arms down to his sides.

“Who,” the accent made the word sound like a growl rolling up from his throat, “Are you?”

Robbie’s nose twitched, “Uh,” he stepped behind Sportacus and seemed to shrink into himself for a moment trying to think. He took a deep breath, stood tall and said with a toothy smile while he adjusted his waistcoat, “Robbie Rotten.”

Anton looked Robbie head to toe and clicked his tongue, “I know your face, villain.” A smile pulled up a corner of his mouth as he unbuttoned his jacket. He turned and spoke to Sportacus, “Consider this a late birthday present, hero,” as he slipped a hand into his jacket. “As it is something you seem incapable of doing.” Sportacus’s crystal went off as did Anton’s watch, albeit weakly.

Sportacus lunged and grabbed Anton by the front of his suit and lifted him by the lapels. “Don’t.” Anton, however, smirked and dropped to his knee to throw Sportacus off balance. Sportacus’s grip loosened, so Anton twisted, slipped out of the jacket, and pulled the gun out of the shoulder holster to train it on Robbie’s head.

“Or what, Sport?” Anton chuckled, “You can’t save everyone and criminals shouldn’t be saved. Time you learn this lesson.”

Startled, scared, shocked. Robbie fell back and landed hard on his behind and stared into the barrel of the gun. He dug his heels into the ground prepared to run but too afraid to move. The crystals flashed in sync and time stood still for Robbie. Anton’s finger moved to the trigger and Robbie squeezed his eyes shut. A tear slipped down his cheek.

Anton and Sportacus, however, watched each other, waiting. Anton’s finger on the trigger. Sportacus’s hands twitched. Anton smirked, “Afraid, hero? Heroes have no fear. They aren’t afraid to do what needs to be done.” The crystals cried out and Anton thought it would be a beautiful lament for Robbie Rotten, villain number ten. He was wrong.

A rock, a small rock the size of a large marble, smacked Anton square in the shoulder. He screamed and lowered the gun, and Sportacus took the opportunity to make his move. Sportacus’s full weight was channeled through his shoulder into Anton’s gut as he tackled him to the ground. Anton landed hard, his head bounced off the rubberized asphalt of the sports field. Sportacus got to his feet first and kicked the gun away from Anton’s reach. They crystals dimmed and quiet, Sportacus breathed hard and looked at the gun out of the corner of his eye, while Anton laid on the ground and chuckled up at Sportacus.

“Not bad,” Anton picked up the rock that pelted him and examined it. “You get little brats to do that for you?”

“Trixie is quite fond of her slingshot, and you’ll notice she’s a good shot, but she knows when to do the right thing, Anton,” said Sportacus without mirth. “Something you never learned, even with all your training.” He nudged the wristwatch with the toe of his boot, “What a waste of potential. You could’ve been a great hero, Anton.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” said Anton. “I’d say I decided to seek new ventures. Besides, you can’t save everyone so why bother. I prefer to just save myself.”

Sportacus shook his head as he stepped away to allow Anton to stand but did not offer any assistance. He kicked the gun further away from Anton’s reach. “Why are you here?”

Anton rolled back onto his shoulders, his knees in his chest, and sprang onto his feet. “I can’t visit my dearest twin brother?” He asked with mock pity while he brushed off the front of his shirt.

“I’m an only child.”

“Ouch.”

Robbie curled up into the fetal position on the grass, his entire body shook like pudding, but he attempted to lay still there in the green grass. He watched Anton and Sportacus talk but didn’t hear the words. He felt that it was best if he didn’t move for a while. The muzzle of the gun, on the ground ignored by the twins, pointed in his direction silently agreed. He thought of his orange chair, comfortable and safe inside his underground lair. He envisioned it, could feel the fur between beneath his palms, it was like he was there right now.

“I can beat you, Anton,” said Sportacus as he stepped closer. “Hand-to-hand, I could always beat you, tell me why you’re here.”

Anton rolled his eyes and glanced over to where they left Robbie. His head quirked to the side, “He’s gone,” he gestured to the few tendrils of mist floating on the breeze. “Villain number ten is gone.”

“He does that.” Sportacus didn’t take his eyes off Anton, “Don’t change the subject, why are you here?”

“A magic user? Here?”

“He doesn’t understand it. He just does it.” Sportacus grabbed Anton by the arm in a firm grip. “This is the last time I’ll ask, Anton, why are you here?” He emphasized each word harshly with a squeeze on the arm.

Smirking, Anton placed a hand on Sportacus’s shoulder, “I bet you just hate how similar we are, Sport.” Sportacus’s eyes went wide and he pulled away from Anton to stand against the wall. “I need your help, Sport, I need my brother’s help.” Sportacus’s mouth gaped, “No,” Anton continued. “You’re not an only child and the proof is standing in front of you. The code of the Order says to help your brothers in arms.” Anton held his arms wide with a wider smile, the sunlight glinted off his wristwatch, the same light glinted off the emblem on Sportacus’s chest. “Here I stand. Brother in blood and in arms to ask for your help.”

“No,” Sportacus stood with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You abandoned the order.” He wanted to say that Anton abandoned him and all the other heroes that needed him. “You don’t deserve my help. You don’t deserve that crystal you mutilated.” He pointed his chin to Anton’s wristwatch.

Anton laughed, “I knew you would say that,” he clapped his hands together and interlaced his fingers. “The men who are after me will find me unless I find them first. I would hate to think if they should find you first, Sport, what happens if they came here.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Worst things could happen in Lazy Town than a mild case of poisoning by a flamboyant criminal.”

“How dare you threaten my home.”

“Help me and you can protect it.”

Six feet separated them across the sports field. Sportacus stood poised either to attack or defend himself while Anton stood with his hands together, at first glance to at ease, but he too was prepared to defend himself. A discarded gun laid on the rubberized asphalt and a tailored jacket laid crumpled on the grass.

Sportacus breathed through gritted teeth and grimaced, “Fine.”


	2. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to blend into the general population in a superhero costume so Sportacus asks Robbie for some help. Anton, meanwhile, doesn't help at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was a one shot, too, oops.

The orange armchair was soft, warm, and comforting. Robbie curled up in the seat, his legs over the armrest, and his nose buried in his cow blanket. It was a bad dream, nothing more, nothing more than a nightmare. He’ll have no memory of it when he wakes up. Yeah, too much sugar can make nightmares worse, that’s it. That’s it, too much sugar at all the wrong hours. He rolled over in chair to bury is face in the orange fur of the back.

Three sharp knocks on the hatch of his silo interrupted his train of thought and Robbie covered his face with the blanket. He wasn’t home. “Robbie?” It was Sportacus’s voice but, no, Robbie remembered his nightmare. Seeing double and a gun pointed in his face. Doppelgangers can mimic loved ones. “Robbie? I’m coming down.” The hatch creaked open. Instinct took over, Robbie pushed off the armchair to throw himself over the back of the chair to hide behind it.

 Robbie peeked over the top of the chair to see Sportacus drop down the chute, tuck and roll, but not see the glint of mental tucked into Sportacus’s waistband in the small of his back hidden beneath the vest. Sportacus stood and walked over to the chair, “Robbie?”Sportacus stood and held his hands together as if in prayer, “I need your help, please.”

Not moving from his cover of the armchair Robbie just looked at him over the edge of the armchair, “Why?”

Sportacus began to speak but the sound of a body sliding down the chute interrupted him. Anton dropped down into the lair and mimicked the tuck and roll maneuver of Sportacus, but with much less fluidity. He stood up to stand beside Sportacus, who sidestepped away from him. “What a dump,” Anton said under his breath as he looked around the lair.

Robbie shrieked and ducked behind the chair again, “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good. Please don’t hurt me.”

 “Wonderful,” Anton laughed.

Sportacus shot his brother a look, and sighed as he pulled off his hat and goggles and tossed them in the armchair. “Robbie?” He knelt down beside him behind the chair.

Tears ran down Robbie’s cheeks while he hugged himself and murmured, ‘I’ll be good. I’ll be good.’ He gasped at Sportacus appearance and tried to move away but his heels slipped on the metal plating and flinched when Sportacus reached out to him.

Sportacus shushed him and held Robbie’s head with both hands. He brushed away Robbie’s tears with his thumbs. “Hey, look at me, please, look at me,” he whispered. Robbie shook under his hands but looked into his eyes and placed his hands on Sportacus’s. He sank into the warmth of Sportacus’s hands and after a minute stopped muttering. “Hi Robbie,” Sportacus said and leaned down to touch his forehead to Robbie’s. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, right?” Fresh tears rolled down Robbie’s cheeks but he nodded his head. “I’m always there to save you. You know that, right?” Robbie nodded again.

Meanwhile, Anton eyed the machines littered on the workbench, and tapped a gloved finger on a round unfinished contraption. “Time is wasting while you talk,” he raised an eyebrow at Sportacus who shot him a sideways look. “Or whatever you’re doing, there,” he sneered.

Sportacus rolled his eyes and focused on Robbie, “Robbie, I need help, I have to leave Lazy Town for a little while and I need clothes, all I have is my uniform, and I need to be able to blend in. Can you make me some clothes?” He smiled, “You are the master of disguise, after all.”

“Wait,” Robbie said with a sniff. He placed a palm on Sportacus’s chest and pushed him away. “You’re leaving? Why?”

Sportacus looked at Anton, who leaned against the workbench, and Robbie followed his gaze. “I want to protect Lazy Town.” He squeezed Robbie’s shoulder to bring his focus back to their conversation, “If I have to go with him to do it, I will, but I need some help before I do.”

Robbie nodded, “Okay,” he sniffed. “Give me a few minutes.”

Sportacus clapped Robbie on the shoulder, “Thank you, Robbie,” he stood and helped Robbie up. “Fantastic.” Robbie hummed in his throat, and kept his eyes down as he walked up the steps behind the armchair to his sewing room, tucked away behind the Automated Wardrobe 3000.

“We don’t’ have time for this,” Anton glanced at his watch and pointedly looked at Sportacus. He glanced at the hidden sewing room, “You talk to all villains like you talk to him?”

“About that,” Sportacus swiped his hat and goggles off the armchair to stand across from Anton with his fists on his waist. “How and why do you know where he’s ranked?”

Anton mirrored his brother stance and smirked, “I’m a part of The Order—”

“Was,” corrected Sportacus.

“Either. Way.” Anton over emphasized each word with a low rumble in his throat. “I know my way around the databases. I know who the villains are and I know that one’s face.” He raised an eyebrow and pointed his chin at where Robbie disappeared. “I expected more.”

Sportacus crossed the gap between them and poked a finger into Anton’s chest, “That whole bit about ‘easing my burden,’ that was to further your own agenda, wasn’t it, Antoninus?”

Smirking, Anton brushed away Sportacus’s hand, “Oh, you’re really angry now, aren’t you? Using my name like that? No, Antoninus died a long time ago,” he said with a growl. “My name is Anton Poldark.” He patted Sportacus on the cheek, “See that you remember that.” He reached his other arm around Spotacus’s back to pull the gun out from the waistband. They didn’t break eye contact. Anton gestured with the gun, “Or else.” He slipped the gun back into the holster.

“If you could do that, Anton, you would’ve by now,” said Sportacus in a low growl.

Anton smiled, tapped Sportacus on the cheek again, and opened his mouth to say something when they turned to the sound of footsteps on metal grating.

Robbie reappeared from behind the Automated Wardrobe 3000 with a navy blue suit on a hanger hung over one arm and held a pair of shoes in his other hand. He paused on the stairs, “O-oh,” he cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting something, Sportacus?”

“No,” said the twins in unison. It made Robbie flinch.

Robbie glanced from side to side, “Okay.” He walked over to Sportacus to drape the suit on his arms. “This should do for now,” his nose twitched, “Should fit and all that.”

“Wow, that’s fantastic Robbie,” Sportacus said with his usual chipper and a big smile. “Thank you, I knew I could count on you.” He walked over to the armchair and draped the suit on the back so he change. “I really like the color, I was a little worried that it would be purple,” he said with a laugh.

“No, no,” said Robbie with a small smile. “Blue is your color but I dared a shade darker than sky blue.” He cleared his throat and picked up Sporatcus’s uniform. “I’ll put this up for you.” Robbie picked up Sportacus’s uniform and stored it in the Automated Wardrobe. He paused a moment to look up at it before he disappeared back into this sewing room.

Eyebrows raised, Anton glanced at his watch, and even held it up to his ear to hear if it was ticking, “Quite interesting,” he said under his breath. Only three minutes had passed from when Robbie left to when he appeared with the suit. Fingers interlaced and palms up, “Perhaps,” he said out loud, “Someone of Mr. Rotten’s skill set may be of use in this, uh,” he glanced at the ceiling as he found the right word. “Endeavor.”

“No,” said Sportacus as he buttoned the navy blue shirt. “He stays here. It’s bad enough you’re using me for this ‘endeavor’ of yours.”

“Magic could be useful, is what I’m saying.”

“I don’t care,” Sportacus said as tucked in the shirt. “He doesn’t deserve to be around you any longer than necessary.” He pulled up his collar and swung the necktie around his neck and walked over to a hanging mirror to tie the tie. “Besides, he’s barely in control of what magic he does possess and it usually focuses on creating disguises or inventions.”

Robbie reappeared in the main room with a fedora tucked under one arm and a leather bracelet in hand. A short tune echoed throughout the lair as he tapped on the organ keys of the Automated Wardrobe to pull Sportacus’s uniform. He tapped on the emblem to reveal the crystal and fitted it into the leather bracelet before he tapped the emblem shut. He walked his fingers across the keyboard and returned the uniform back on display. “I-I,” he said when he turned and noticed the brothers watching him. “I knew you wouldn’t want to part with the crystal,” he gestured with the bracelet. “Also, the finishing touch,” he pulled the fedora out from under his arm.

 “Wow, Robbie,” said Sportacus as slipped on the tie clip. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?” He reached over the railing to take the bracelet from Robbie, but his fingers lingered. “Anton, go, I’ll meet you in a moment.”

Anton rolled his eyes and sneered, “Make it quick. We’ve already wasted enough time on frivolities,” he said as he climbed the ladder beside the chute.

Sportacus fastened the bracelet on his wrist and retrieved the jacket from the back of the chair. He shrugged it on as he walked back to the elevated platform to talk to Robbie over the railing. “I landed the airship in the forest it should be fine,” he avoided eye contact as took the fedora from Robbie and ran a hand through his curly hair before he placed the hat on his head. “Tell everyone that I’ll be back soon, you can say that I received an important message and needed to leave immediately and,” he placed his hand on Robbie’s that rested on the railing. “Watch over Lazy Town for me?”

 “M-me, no, I can’t. I—”

“I know you can, I believe in you.”

“You say that to everyone.”

“Because it’s something I have to believe.” A bronzed hand grabbed Robbie by the wrist and pulled him down nearly double over the railing. “I believe in you, Robbie.” Another hand tugged at Robbie’s waistcoat as he braced himself on the railing.

They kissed, it wasn’t so much sweet as it was desperate. Robbie wished it was the fun kind of desperate, the one where the participants craved each other’s bodies. Not this. This was a desperate kiss that craved the intertwining spirits to ground the participants to reality. Robbie hated it but he still savored as the bittersweet ending it felt like.

Sportacus broke away first but held Robbie close, “I’m sorry.” He breathed deeply and released Robbie before he walked to the chute ladder. “I’ll return soon. I promise.”

Robbie didn’t say anything as he watched Sportacus climb out of his lair because he didn’t want to say good bye. It rested on the tip of his tongue and he didn’t want to risk uttering it. He eyed the orange phone besides his orange armchair. Someone knew something and his uncle knew everyone, wonder if he knew a man by the name of Anton?

Above ground Sportacus and Anton skirted along the edge of town in silence to reach the plane by the main gates and they didn’t want to be seen. Sportacus tossed the fedora behind him as he put the headset on but didn’t notice the pile of blankets where the fedora landed behind his seat. Together they prepared for takeoff and, even though his air ship far surpassed the common plane, Sportacus still knew his way around most aircrafts. Anton described their plans as such: land, meet up with his point person, and attend a meeting with some of Anton’s associates at a private club. Simple enough, he said but Sportacus knew there was nothing simple when it involved Anton. He knew this when they were children and he doubted much changed since.

They landed hours later in a small private airport outside of Moscow and once the plane was cut off Anton threw open the cockpit door to berate the closest breathing being for their daring to exist in his presence. Sportacus rubbed his eyes and without looking reached in the back and felt for the fedora on the pile of blankets. He didn’t see the pile wiggle but he heard the murmurs as he put on the fedora.

“No,” he bolted upright and partially climbed over the seat. “No, no, no!” He pulled the top blanket off to reveal two small heads: one pink and the other brunette with a three ponytails. Sportacus couldn’t quite catch his breath and felt as if his heart would explode in his chest. “Trixie? Stephanie?”

“Hi, Sportacus,” they said in unison with sheepish grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	3. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie decides to stowaway on a criminal's plane and Stephanie goes with to protect her friend.

A slingshot hung out of Trixie’s back pocket, she was practicing on tin cans earlier before Stephanie invited her to play soccer. Over her shoulder she saw Sportacus, his stance stiff and unnatural as he watched Anton. Stephanie pulled her along but something nagged in the back of her mind. Mind made up, Trixie dragged Stephanie behind the wall around the sports field to watch. Speaking over Stephanie’s protests, “I’ve never seen him like that, Pinkie, I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, me either,” said Stephanie as she peeked over the wall with Trixie, “But I don’t think its right to be spying on them, Trixie. Let’s go play video games with the boys, okay?”

“I have to know why Sportacus lied.”

“What? When?”

Anton’s arms fell to his sides and he addressed Robbie, Trixie pulled Stephanie down lower behind the wall, afraid that her hair would give them away. “Last week, I was sitting in the tree house because I had a fight with my mom over something Trent did and blamed me for.” A side glance at Stephanie, “She takes his side because he’s older, I swear.” Eyes forward to watch the adults, “Anyway, Sportacus noticed me while he was jogging and asked if I was okay. I told him everything. He said, ‘Deep down, Trent still cared about me; it’s just that being a teenager can be hard. Older brothers can be that way, sometimes,’ he laughed. So, I asked him if he had any brothers and, the weird thing is, he said, ‘No, I’m an only child.’” Beside her Stephanie shrugged as she watched the adults. “No, Pinkie,” she said harshly, “His eyes, I don’t know, changed when he said it. Like all the light and warmth went away for that moment. It was more than a little white lie, Stephanie, it was big.”

They watched Anton pull the gun out on Robbie, Stephanie gasped and covered her mouth and ducked behind the wall completely. “I knew he was lying. I knew it. I just, didn’t know it was like this.” Trixie watched Robbie fall to the ground and Sportacus do nothing. Deep breath, “I don’t know what he did to Sportacus,” Slingshot in hand Trixie loaded up the marble shooter sized marble, “but I won’t let him hurt Robbie.” Bracing herself on the wall, Trixie pulled back the pouch; steady breaths; she only had one shot and she wouldn’t miss.

Fire.

A scream echoed through the air proceeded by a loud grunt but Trixie didn’t see what happened because Stephanie pulled her down behind the wall by her pant leg. “What are you doing? Gun, Trixie, he has a gun.” They sat with their backs against the wall and Stephanie felt her heart beating through her dress.

Shaking, her palms sweaty, but she kept her grip on the slingshot. “You have to stand up for what’s right, Stephanie.” She grabbed Stephanie’s hand, “Even if it’s scary sometimes.” Stephanie nodded and squeezed Trixie’s hand. “You know, like Sportacus said—”

“—Terrible. I can’t have you looking like that near me,” said Anton much closer to Trixie and Stephanie than the center of the sports field.

Ponytails and pink hair whipped to the side to access Anton’s location. Trixie attempted to stand but Stephanie pulled her back down and pushed her against the wall with an outstretched arm. Too close to make a run for it if he still had the gun; Stephanie held a finger to her lips so they could listen.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” said Sportacus. “Remember: I’m not helping you. I’m protecting the citizens of this town from you.”

On their right the Twins walked past their location against the wall. Something glinted in Sportacus’s waistband that he covered with his vest. The gun. The girls stopped breathing and froze against the wall. “This way,” said Sportacus and gestured towards the billboard on the edge of town. “Wait,” he held his arm across Anton’s chest to stop him. “I don’t want you to be seen. Come on,” and jumped over the boarder wall around Lazy Town.

Following behind, albeit clumsier due to his injured shoulder, Anton stood on the wall for a moment, “Let’s not waste time, yes? I have a contact that hates it when I’m late.” He jumped off and followed Sportacus on the outskirts of town.

A pink head fell onto Trixie’s shoulder and the sudden weight startled her to breathe again. Several unsteady breaths later she pushed Stephanie away to stand on shaking legs. Quietly, Trixie asked Stephanie, “What’s Sportacus doing?” She stood on her tip toes to try, unsuccessfully, peer over the boarder wall but was distracted by the shadow gliding over town.

Up in the sky, the air ship circled above the town. Each passing revolution brought it closer to the ground, low enough for a low hum to permeate the air from the engines. It landed in the forest, nestled by the trees.

Again, with much more emphasis, Trixie asked, “What’s Sportacus doing?” She hopped onto the wall of the sports field to try and see over the boarder wall. Nothing but green grass as far as the eye could see, the lonely road out of town, and Anton’s small single engine plane.

 “Helping his brother, I think,” said Stephanie as she brushed off the back of her dress and shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked to the forest. “Have you ever seen the airship land?”

“No.” Trixie sighed, “I don’t like this, Stephanie. I think Anton’s bullying him.”

“Anton?”

“That’s what Sportacus called him. Anton.”

“Ah, well,” Stephanie rocked on her heels. “I’m sure Sportacus will be okay, Trixie, he’s a superhero after all.”

Trixie shoved the slingshot into her pocket as she walked along the wall, “No he’s not. He’s an ‘Above average hero’ and even he’s capable of being bullied.” She focused on the partially opened main gate through which she could see Anton’s plane. “I mean, Robbie does it often enough.” She hopped off the wall and made a beeline towards the main gates. “Even heroes need help sometimes, Stephanie.”

On the ground, Stephanie followed along the wall, “Trixie?”

“If Sportacus is going with Anton then I’m coming, too. Sportacus needs protection from his brother,” she looked over her shoulder at Stephanie. “I know what it’s like to be bullied by my brother but Sportacus said that Trent’s a bully because being a teenager is hard.” She faced Stephanie and walked backwards, “What’s Anton’s excuse?” She gestured with her hands, palms up, “They’re adults.” Hands shoved in pockets, Trixie spun back around and stopped in front of the gates. “I’m going, Pinkie, you can’t stop me.”

Six feet behind Trixie Stephanie stopped dead in her tracks while Trixie ran her hands over the pebbles along the wall, looking for ammunition for her sling shot. Hands clutched at Stephanie’s sides, shaking like a leaf. “If you’ve made up your mind,” said Stephanie steadily, “Then I’m going with you.”

Trixie stood up and shoved a handful of pebbles in her pocket. “You don’t have—”

“I want to. I’m not letting you go alone.”

Three steps Trixie crossed the gap and embraced Stephanie in a tight hug, “Thank you, Pinkie. I—I can’t let him be alone with that man.”

“I know.” Stephanie squeezed Trixie back. “I can’t let you do this alone.”

They pulled apart and looked to the plane through the gate. Trixie nodded and they hurried through the gates to open the door of the plane. Mercifully, it was unlocked.

“I beg for a favor and then we do shots.” Anton’s voice floated over to them by the plane.

“Go, go, go,” said Trixie and hurried Stephanie to get into the plane. A blanket covered a duffel bag in the back so they threw the blanket over themselves hoping no one would notice.

The twins entered the plane and slammed doors shut. Something landed on top of the blanket, but it was soft and light. Instinctively, Trixie covered Stephanie’s mouth with her hand. They listened to the twins speak in plane jargon and the rumble of the engine. The plane’s wheels rolled on the ground, wind whipped past, and before they knew it the plane was airborne. A sinking feeling in Trixie’s gut told her that she didn’t think her plan through. Under the blanket, with what little light leaked through, she could see Stephanie’s eyes shimmer. She wrapped her arm around Stephanie’s shoulders and pulled her close so their cheeks squished together. They listened to the engine rumble and the air against the outside. Trixie would bring the three of them home. She would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter coming soon.


	4. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (More) threats of violence force Sportacus to bring Stephanie and Trixie along while they drive to see Anton's contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the new chapter of a fic no one asked for but one I hope at least one person is enjoying.

Heart beating fast and the insistent thought ringing in his brain that he failed before he even began Sportacus leaned out of the plane, placed two fingers in his mouth, and whistled. The piercing tone echoed through the hanger to make everyone stare. “I need fuel,” no one moved. “NOW!” He slammed an open palm on the side of the plane and left a minor dent, to scramble all those in the area into action.

Hands up Anton walked forward, “What, what, what is the problem?”

“You’re the problem,” Sportacus jumped out of the plane. “I fly hours with you in an inferior aircraft in a naïve attempt to help you stay alive. No,” Sportacus waved his hands in front of his face and shook his head. “You interrupt my life, threaten my friend, and yet I still follow you. Pabbi told us to look out for each other, and that ends today.” He crossed his arms and the fabric of the shirt strained against his chest. “It should’ve ended that day you left us all for dead,” he said in a low voice.

Inside the plane Trxie leaned close to Stephanie to whisper, “Wow, Sportacus is pissed.”

“Yeah,” said Stephanie. “I’ve never seen his angry before. It’s a little spooky.”

Anton threw his hands down at his sides and Sportacus placed his fists on his hips to look down at him; He hated that idiotic pose that he picked up from Pabbi, one that demeaned all those in the vicinity. A deep breath to compose himself, “You’re leaving? So soon? We barely just landed,” said Anton.

“Yes,” he stood to block Anton’s view inside the plane. “I will leave the plane in a neutral location. Do not contact me again.” They stared each other down and, without breaking eye contact with Anton, Sportacus spoke to the young man refueling the plane. “How long until the plane is ready to fly?”

“J-just,” stuttered the young man, “A few minutes, sir.”

Anton narrowed his eyes and leaned to look over Sportacus’s shoulder to see the two children in the plane. Two sets of eyes blinked owlish at him and, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, he gestured with the other at them. “Children?” He mouthed, “Why?”

_“I’m taking them back home,” said Sportacus. A glance at the young man gave him the thumbs up, he nodded, and climbed back into the plane._

_“We weren’t going to let you be bullied by him, Sportacus,” said Trixie in a rush. “We came to protect you.”_

Deep breath and a smile, Sportacus attempted his best impression of his normal self to talk to the girls while they settled in the back of the plane. “It was very brave of you to want to protect your friend,” he could feel his smile falter so he turned to focus on the instrument panel. “However,” he paused to gauge his next few words. “What you did was very dangerous.”

“So? You lied Sportacus and that’s worse.”

Hands hovered over the instrument panel Sportacus turned to look over his shoulder, eyes wide, “Pardon?”

“About being an only child, Sportacus,” Trixie crossed her arms over her chest. “You lied.”

“Uh,” Sportacus glanced out of the cockpit at Anton looking baffled and angry as he shouted at a black car pulling up close to the plane. “I—”

“He threatened Robbie, Sportacus, and I bet he bullied you into coming here.” The slingshot appeared in her hand and she waved back and forth. “If you won’t stand up to him, I will.”

His heart may’ve stopped, Sportacus clutched his chest and tried to measure his breathing, “While I appreciate that, Trixie.” How does he phrase this gently, “No, I don’t need protecting.” He turned back to the instrument panel and fitted the headset on his head. “Fasten your seatbelts.”

“See,” Stephanie whispered into Trixie’s ear. “Everything’s fine.”

A deep frown creased Trixie’s face as she looked out the window, Sportacus distracted by talking to the control tower and turning on the engine. Outside the plane, a blonde woman emerged from the black car, spoke to Anton, and then approached the plane. “I wouldn’t count on that, Pinkie,” she said and Stephanie followed her gaze to look out the window. Tap tap on the window distracted Sportacus from the instrument panel for him to look up. The woman, gun pointed at Sportacus’s head, gestured with the gun for Sportacus to exit the plane but paid no heed to the children. “Doesn’t need protecting my behind,” Trixie muttered under her breath.

Headset thrown in the seat beside him, Sportacus threw open the door, “I’m sorry,” he said with stern tone seemingly unconcerned about the gun pointed into this chest. “We’ll be leaving now. If you’ll excuse us.”

“Antosha,” said the woman, “He’s adorable,” wrapping her fingers around his lapel she pulled him close and the barrel of the gun buried itself in Sportacus’s chest. “I can still see the innocence in his eyes,” her lips just barely brushed against his, “So sad.”

Over her shoulder Sportacus could see Anton seething, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, “Tatiana,” he growled.

A ruby red lipstick smile spread across Tatiana’s face, “You must forgive him, the men following him have left him paranoid. Demanded that we find you, the brother, the only one he could trust in this situation.” Pain erupted in Sportacus’s chest as the gun barrel dug deeper, “I must admit that I’m hurt, but,” she dragged him down so she could speak into his ear, “I am easily bargained with if you wish to make amends for my pain and suffering?” He felt as if the gun barrel would break his sternum any moment.

Seething behind her back Anton came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, “Tatiana,” Anton growled into her ear while glaring at Sportacus.

“Yes, yes,” Tatiana let go of Sportacus’s lapel but he dared not move, “You seemed to have left out a few things, Antosha.” She traced a finger along the edge of one pointed ear which made Sportacus blush to the tips of his ears and the pink ear tip twitch away from her touch. “I wonder what else you forgot to tell me,” her hand traced along his arm and landed on the leather bracelet. “So many questions,” she sighed, “No time for answers.” She gestured with the gun. “Get out of the plane. It’s time to leave.” Sportacus did not move but stared down at Tatiana with iron clad blue eyes. “Oh, I know that look. I’ve had a lot of practice with that look.” The gun barrel drifted to Sportacus’s left to point at Stephanie, “I don’t have patience for this. Out of the plane, all of you.”

Sportacus staggered back into the plane and turned off the engine. He took a deep breath, “Girls,” he said with a facsimile of his usual self but he knew it was paper thin. “I try my best to be a good role model for all the citizens of Lazy Town but until we get home I—” he sighed, his gaze bounced between each girl and the gun barrel outside the plane. “I need you to understand what I mean by the phrase: Do as I say, not as do.”

The girls nodded, “We understand,” said Stephanie. “We shouldn’t mimic your actions.” She spoke with much more maturity than an eight year old should ever need to posses.

Knuckles white on her slingshot, “We got your back, Sportacus.”

Heart palpations shook his ribcage but Sportacus did his best to appear calm and hoped that Trixie really wasn’t prepared to kill a man. However, he wouldn’t put it past her. “Anton,” said Sportacus as he grabbed the fedora and hopped out the plane. “I need you to understand that if anything happens to these girls. I will kill you, understand?”

Arms still wrapped around Tatiana’s waist and his chin on her shoulder Anton sneered. “I would have nothing less,” he said and unwound from Tatiana to move towards the car. “We’re late. He hates it when I’m late and he doesn’t care for children.” He spoke in reference of his contact with a glare at the girls hopping out of the plane.

“Don’t care,” said Sportacus as he ran a hand through his hair. “They’re not leaving my sight.” He fixed the fedora on his head, “You know I keep my word, Anton.” He guided the girls into the car while he kept an eye on Anton and Tatiana. “I won’t hesitate,” he said under his breath before he stepped into the car.

Smirking, “Of course,” Anton said with a glance at Tatiana while they stood outside the car. The smirk, however, disappeared from his face as he watched Tatiana watch Sportacus’s ass as he climbed into the car. He cleared his throat loudly and she gave him an innocent look.

“Oh, Antosha,” she said as she partially inside the car. “You’ve let yourself go.” Inside the car she needed to squish herself against Sportacus but didn’t seem to mind all that much.  She tapped a red nail against her chin, glanced at Sportacus’s chest, and looked up at Anton with a coy smile, “No room.”

Anton bared his teeth and slammed the door shut and muttered under his breath and he walked around the car to sit in the passenger seat. Inside the car he murmured instructions to the driver and the car rolled out of the hanger.

“Tell me,” said Tatiana to Sportacus as they drove along busy dusk lit streets. “What’s it like to be a superhero? Anton remains so coy about the matter.”

Sportacus sat stiffly in the middle of the backseat as a barrier between the girls and Tatiana shook his head. “I’m not a superhero; I’m an above average hero.”

Anton scoffed from the front, “Figures you would parrot what Pabbi would say, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Stephanie ignoring Anton’s comments and her voice confident as she defended her friend. “He plays games with us and saves Lazy Town every day whenever Robbie starts to scheme.” Her hands balled up into fists to pound on her knees in excitment, “He’s protects Lazy Town and its citizens and helps us be better.”

Trixie chimed in agreement and spoke about the time that Sportacus saved her when she overestimated the speed of a red wagon rolling down a hill. Confident, more so with Stephanie’s hand clasped in her’s, she spoke about the time Robbie Rotten devised a scheme to force Sportacus out of town but the citizens worked together to foil his plans.

Sportacus, for his part, sat unmoving and stared through the windshield at the passing streets. He appreciated the girls and how they defended their friend but he wondered if it was a wrong time wrong place scenario playing out in front of his eyes.

Tatiana smiled. Not a friendly smile to be sure, it was a tight patronizing smile reserved exclusively for moments when violence could not be considered a viable option. Today, was one such moment. “Interesting,” she said with a hand under her chin as she looked at Sportacus. “I suppose I should’ve figured you to be an athlete.”

“Teach children how to play,” said Anton while the car pulled into the back of a night club, “What a waste of time.” He instructed the driver to wait here until they were finished and left the car. “Tatiana,” he waited as the driver opened the door for her to step out. “Wait at the bar, Spartak and I have business in the back, and I want you close.”

“Spartak?” Sportacus asked with his eyebrow raised, “That’s not my name.”

“Today, inside that building, it is,” said Anton as he adjusted his jacket and glanced at his watch.

“What a dump,” said Trixie as she and Stephanie stretched beside the car.

Anton looked down at them, “Children wait in car.”

“No, no, no,” said Sportacus. “They don’t leave my sight.” He placed a palm in the center of Anton’s chest. “Don’t test me.”

Anton brushed away Sportacus’s hand, “You want to bring minors into a nightclub, Sport? That’s negligent at best and most defiantly illegal.”

“We’re entering through the back of the club,” said Sportacus and pointed a finger into Anton’s chest. “As it stand, I doubt what we’re doing here is legal.”

“Yeah,” said Trixie. “We’re not leaving Sportacus alone with you.” Stephanie nodded beside her. So, Anton and Sportacus stood facing each other prepared to fight, the children stood behind Sportacus prepared to defend their friend (to the death probably), and Tatiana rolled her eyes.

Sighing, “So dramatic, all of you,” Tatiana strode up to Anton and stepped between the brothers. “I will do this one favor for you, Anton,” she leaned in to grab a hold of the knot of his tie to pull him close. “One that I expect full compensation afterwards,” she let go and spun to face Sportacus while Anton fixed his tie. “The children will be in my care and I will watch over them while you two talk to him,” she pointed her chin at the club. “Don’t have too much fun in there,” She reached out to grab Sportacus’s tie knot, presumably to pull him close just like Anton, but he side stepped away from her reach, and she clicked her tongue as she grabbed his lapel instead. “I look forward to how you’ll compensate me for my time, Spartak,” she winked and stepped away from them both.

“What, no,” said Stephanie. “We don’t want to be separated from Sportacus. We’re here to protect him.”

“I don’t need protecting,” said Sportacus. “You two do. Speak with the owner Anton, I’ll wait with the girls outside.”

Anton rolled his eyes, “I tire of this argument.” He grabbed Sportacus by the upper arm and pulled him into the club through the backdoor. Sportacus tried to shake free but Anton held on with a vice grip while they walked through the kitchen. “It’s your own fault for bringing children along, Sport,” wait staff parted for Anton and Sportacus didn’t know if it was because they knew him or you simply don’t stand in the way of someone scowling in a suit walking with a purpose.

“I didn’t bring them,” Sportacus tried to shake himself loose again, but again, failed. They walked past the line, where kitchen staff assemble dishes, and grabbed half a carrot abandoned on a cutting board by a cook. He tried to remember the last time he ate something, “They were stowaways.”

“What a terrible role model you’ve become, Sport,” Anton leaned into his ear and knocked the carrot out of his hand. “Pabbi would be so disappointed,” he hissed and shouldered their way through the kitchen doors into the nightclub proper.

Guests filtered through the front door to line up at the bar and sit in the booths. Waitresses in slinky black dresses carried trays and menus around the partially filled dance floor. The night was young and so were the guests, Sportacus noticed, and while they blended into the crowd with their attire similar to the upper class guests. An age difference of two decades, at least, separated the brothers from all the other guests in the club. So much for blending in, thought Sportacus with a roll of the eyes as Anton dragged him through a short hallway to a man guarding the back room.

The man, a burly bald gentleman with an earring in his ear, in a black suit held up his hand. “Guests are not allowed past this point. Thank you.”

Anton rolled his eyes, “Rikki hann er bestur,” he said in a mocking tone. “The Poldark brothers have come to call on your master,” he said with a sneer.

The gentleman nodded, “My apologies,” he said and opened the door for them to walk through. “Mr. Glæpur has been waiting for you Mr. Poldark.”

The small back room, crowed with a number of scantily clad women and several men on small couches, smelled of hookah smoke and sweat. A waitress, dressed in the required slinky dress with an intricate floral tattoo across her collar bones, tucked a black tray under her arm as she sidled past them on her way out the door. Sportacus inspected her tattoo as she walked past, “Gladiolus,” he murmured.

“Good eye,” she said with a wink, “Maybe I’ll show you my Orchid sometime.”

Anton rolled his eyes and pulled Sportacus through the throng of bodies between couches, “What am I? Invisible?” He murmured under his breath but Sportacus still heard him.

Sportacus smirked, and looked to Anton out of the corner of his eye, “Jealous?” This moment, everything seemed to disappear and they were in training again. Anton, Antoninus then, had his eye on strawberry blonde cadet with a strong upper cut but she wasn’t interested in him but would play games with Sportacus after their training for the day. So, midnight a week after Anton stared them down playing a friendly game of soccer, he came to Sportaus’s dorm room with a challenge for her hand. Bleary eyed but with a smirk on his face, Sportacus only said, “Jealous?” He missed it when it was simpler.

A large couch stretched out in the back of the room and the brothers stopped in front of it. A tall, lean, man stretched himself across the couch with his head in the lap of a muscular young man dressed in leather pants with his shirt open. He brought the hookah pipe to his raspberry pink lips, breathed deep, and tilted his head back to blow an impressive cloud away from the young man’s face. “You’re late, darling.” Mr. Glæpur’s head rolled on the young man’s lap and he gasped, “Oh,” pink lips puckered, you brought someone. Long legs swung off the lap of a beautiful young woman and a pair of stiletto heeled boots clicked onto the ground. One leg swung over the other and he rested his arms along the back of the couch.

“Glanni,” said Anton, “Always a pleasure.” He motioned with his head to Sportacus, “Spartak, my younger brother.”

A well groomed eyebrow raised, “A brother, interesting. I remember you telling me once you were an only child,” said Glanni.

Finally, Sportacus was able to shake himself free from Anton’s vice grip, and said, “It’s a habit we share.”

“Oh, I’m sure you share more than that.” Glanni snapped his fingers twice, “Everyone out,” he shouted over the murmur of voices and the reverberating music from the dance floor. “Now.” Bodies rushed to the door, including the two people from the couch. “Wait,” he grabbed the arm of the shirtless man as he buttoned his up his shirt, “Keep your ass handy,” Glanni winked. “Tell Klara to bring the shots,” he smacked him on the ass. The room emptied out and left the three of them alone. The twins stood while Glanni sat on the couch, arms thrown over the back and his legs crossed, a boot tapped to a beat in the air. “Vodka,” he waved a hand in the air. “To toast your return home, yes?”

Klara, the waitress with the intricate floral collar bone tattoos, returned with a tray of glasses and a bottle of vodka. She walked between the brothers to the small table in front of the couch, set down the glasses and asked, “Will this be all for now, Mr. Glæpur?” while she poured the drinks.

The short dress lifted at least two inches while bent modestly to pour the vodka, Sportacus could see a vine and leaves wrap around her upper thigh and disappear into the dress, he could feel the tips of his ears burn.

Another wave of the hand, “No, no, this will be all, Klara, thank you.”

Klara nodded as she tucked the tray under her arm, spun on her heel, and left the same way she came in past the brothers. Sportacus resisted the urge to watch her leave; unfortunately, if he did he would’ve noticed the burly bald gentleman guarding the door outside now stood inside with three of his compatriots. They parted to allow Klara to exit and moved back to guard the door. Anton, however, focused only on Glanni and his ultimate goal.

Glanni picked up the glass closest to him and offered the brothers to do the same.

They held their glasses high, “A toast to family,” said Glanni.

Anton rolled his eyes and instead replied, “Nostrovia!”

“Family,” Sportacus sighed.

They drank.

Anton retched, “What kind of garbage vodka is this, I—”

Glass hitting the tile interrupted Anton, he turned and saw the shot glass had slipped from Sportacus’s hand to bounce along the tile floor. A dent chipped into the bottom, as it rolled away.

Blackness crept into Sportacus’s vision, his breaths caught in his throat, and his heart drummed against his ribcage. He registered that his crystal blinked red, a sugar meltdown, and that Anton still stood. He fell heavily on his knees and his eyes rolled, he fell back but was caught by a pair of the men from the back. They held him by the arms, tight, threatening to rip his arms out of their sockets. He groaned but could barely move against them.

Before he could react, the other pair of men grabbed Anton by the arms and forced him to his knees. “Glanni, what the hell did you do?”

“Simple syrup dried in the bottle of the glasses,” Glanni licked the edge of his glass. “Such a simple trick,” he poured himself another shot, threw it back, and laughed. “Too simple, I feel like,” he laughed again and stood. Stiletto boots clicked on the tile floor as he stood and, with a smile, threw the shot glass against the wall. “One for simple little elves,” he said as he took one long legged stride over to Sportacus and used one finger under the brim of the fedora to tip the hat off his head. “We’ve known each other for years, Anton.” Two fingers of his left hand under Sportacus’s chin tipped his head back and Glanni used forefinger and thumb of his right hand to pinch the tip of a pointed ear. “You thought I wouldn’t notice?” Sportacus’s ear twitched and Glanni released it from his grasp and let Sportacus’s head fall back down. “Honestly,” he stepped over to Anton and cupped his head with both hands. “I want to know who you thought you were fooling,” he used his forefingers to push Anton’s ears forward. The edges of which just above the earlobes were crooked, unsymmetrical, and scarred. “To mutilate yourself to pass as human? Such naïve innocence from someone like you, Antosha,” a large smile spread across his face and he pulled Anton’s sneering face close. “It’s over,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is where I get to write the scene with Glanni that made me decide to make this one-shot into an ongoing fic and wrote, like, 7k to get to do.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	5. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glanni is pissed, Tatiana is drinking, and the children are dodging night club security.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be dying trying to finish this fic. Bless those souls who write novel length fics when I struggle with novelette length ones. Also, I only recently noticed that I misspelled Poldark in the tags so I fixed that.

Outside the night club, the full moon peeked out from between the clouds, two girls and a lady stood by the car recently abandoned the twins who ran into the nightclub to meet with its seedy owner. The three of them stood in a triangle formation and stared each other down. If she cared about odds, Tatiana would feel uncomfortable about being outnumbered but, as a grown woman, she felt she could take on a pair of children. The driver drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

Trixie, effectively making the first move, grabbed Stephanie’s arm and dragged her to the door, “Come on, Pinkie, we’re going in.”

Stephanie nodded, “Right.”

Tatiana rolled her eyes, “Oh, two children are going to waltz into a popular nightclub without being noticed?” She examined her nails, “What a good idea,” sarcasm dripped off her words. Walking up beside the two of them by the back door, Tatiana shoved them aside, “Children wait in car. Yes?”

Stephanie caught Trixie by the shoulders and neither girl answered Tatiana.

“Good girls.” She patted Trixie on the cheek, “Stay out of the way of the adults.” She swung open the door, stepped inside the night club, and left the girls were left alone by the door.

“Good gorls,” said Trixie mocking her accent as she pushed off from Stephanie. “What a load,” she brushed off the sleeve where Tatiana touched her before she vigorously wiped her cheek for the same reason. “Come on, Pinkie. We have a job to do.”

The kitchen bustled with activity, the expeditor shouted something at the line cooks when Trixie and Stephanie hurried past. A moment of quick thinking had Stephanie shoving a green apple into her purse, Trixie nodded her approval. They slipped past waiters in vests and waitresses in short black dresses out of the kitchen doors. “Keep your eyes peeled, Stephanie, the witch is right. We will be thrown out if we're not careful,” Trixie said as she scanned the night club for both Sportacus and security personnel. They ducked around dancers and club goers; women in stilettos sneered down at them and men with partially unbuttoned shirts swore.

Tatiana stood at the bar and trailed a ruby red painted nail along a young man’s jaw line. He smiled and tipped his head back, she asked the bartender for a shot of vodka. She didn’t notice the girls duck around a couple of girls giggling with drinks in their hands.

Trixie pulled Stephanie through the center of the dance floor by the arm as fast as they could, “Do you see anything, Trixie?”

“No,” she huffed, “I know they’re around here somewhere.”

They stood in the center of the dance floor, a ring of club goers stood away from them and seemed perplexed by their existence in the club. A flood of people poured out from the back of the club intermingled with those on the dance floor and scattered those around the girls. Security, distracted from investigating the situation on the dance floor, pulled aside a man buttoning up his shirt. Security argued with him, gesturing to his shirt, and the man shrugged his shoulders. They grabbed him by the arm and pulled the man to the entrance.

Klara, the waitress, moved along the wall towards the back of the club, Trixie noticed her by the tattoo wrapping around her leg. She carried a tray with a bottle and three glasses and walked down a hallway, to an unguarded doorway.

“There,” Trixie pointed towards the hallway and pulled Stephanie along, “My gut says that’s the way.”

Stephanie pulled back, “Wait.” she pointed at a trio of burly men walking along the edge of the dance floor that followed behind Klara. The door of that room in the back of the hallway swung open and, for a second, they saw navy blue and black suits. Stephanie gasped, “You’re right, Trixie.” She pulled Trixie away from the security personnel from earlier as they moved through the dance floor. “How do we get inside?”

***

The Íþróttssons were on their knees, arms held taunt each by a pair of burly henchmen. Sportacus’s head rolled on his shoulders and the crystal on his bracelet blinked red to indicate a sugar meltdown. Anton, meanwhile, sneered as his head was held by Glanni Glæpur with a large devious smile. “It’s over,” he whispered and dropped Anton’s head.

“Excuse me?” Anton said while he struggled against the grips of the two henchmen.

“It’s time you faced consequences for your actions.” Glanni spun on his heel to a nearby table to fetch a half empty Lemon Drop. He drained the cocktail and pulled the wheel of lemon off the rim of the glass, “Here, I want him to hear this.” He put down the empty drink, placed the lemon wheel on his tongue, shuddering at the sourness, and walked over to Sportacus. He smiled at Anton before he cupped Sportacus’s face and used his thumbs, nails painted raspberry pink, to squeeze Sportacus’s mouth open. The kiss lasted longer than necessary for Sportacus’s, and Anton’s for that matter, comfort.

Sportacus’s eyes opened to the gaudy vision of Glanni Glæpur sexually assaulting him. Strong hands gripped him by the arms and pushed down in the center of his back. He couldn’t pull away. Something, other than the man’s foul tongue, was in his mouth. Sour notes of citrus danced on his taste buds mixed with nicotine.

Glanni, after too long, finally broke the kiss. Pink lipstick smeared across his lips and a thin line of saliva connected the two of them for a moment and it made him smile. “Sweet,” he whispered, “Just like your father.” He stood up straight and stretched out his back to make it pop before he sat on the couch. His legs crossed and one foot tapping in the air to the beat of the music outside, and his arms stretched out on the back of the couch with his hand out of sight.

Sportacus, pink lipstick smeared across his lips, spat out the lemon wheel onto the tile. His crystal still blinked red but now the frequency slowed considerable. It all meant that he was conscious but near helpless. “You’re disgusting,” Sportacus said with another spit onto the ground.

Glanni smiled and wiped the smeared lipstick off with a tissue in his right hand procured from seemingly nowhere. “I do believe you’re father said that to me before,” he balled up the tissue and tossed it to hit Anton in the face. His left hand held up a compact and a lipstick, again, as if out of thin air. “I remember it fondly,” he said between strokes of pink lipstick reflected in the purple compact. “It was during one of our dark back alley rendezvous.” He pressed his lips together and puckered in the mirror. “Mmm, yes, I love this color. It went so well with the gold of the bandana he would shove into my mouth to quiet the—”

“For the love of God,” said Anton as he tipped his head to the ceiling. “Get to the point.”

“Disgusting,” said Sportacus with his eyes on the ground.

“Fine,” said Glanni as he draped his arms over the couch with his hands again out of sight. “You’ve skated past all forms of justice, Anton; Elvish and human alike. However, you’re luck has just ran out.” He pulled up his right hand to reveal a revolver, “It’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions.” The twins followed the gun as Glanni flipped open the barrel with a flick of the wrist to insert a single bullet held in his left hand. “You have at least five chances, Anton, or maybe just one.” He stood and spun the barrel. “To answer my question.” Another flick of the wrist closed the barrel and held to gun to Sportacus’s head. “Why did you bring your brother here?”

Time stood still. Sportacus froze. His breath caught in his throat, his heat pounded against his ribs, and his crystal blinked brighter than before with a shrill beep. The cold metal pressed against his forehead. He looked out of the corner of his eye to look at Anton. Anton struggled against the henchmen but to no avail. Anton’s watch blinked out of unison with Sportacus’s crystal.

“What is it you said to Sergei? When you held the gun to his head and that Elvish crystal flashed? Oh, yes,” He looked to Sportacus and, with the gun, forced Sportacus’s head back, “Someone’s in trouble.” He laughed, “I bet you didn’t think anyone would notice since you carved most of the crystal away.” He pulled back the hammer. “I did.”

Anton’s chest raised and fell with quick breaths, “What are you talking about?”

Glanni pulled the trigger. _Click_. Nothing. “Five more chances, Anton, maybe less.” Glanni pulled back the hammer. “Tell your brother why you brought him here.”

Anton’s breathing caught in his throat, “I-I needed his help. His expertise.”

_Click_.

Glanni clicked his tongue, “Another lie, Anton, how many more chances will you have?” He pulled back the hammer. “I wouldn’t risk it.”

Breathless, “I don’t know what you want. I told you: I needed his help.” said Anton.

_Click_.

“Tell the truth, Antosha. I know you know it.” He pulled back the hammer.

The idea of failure rang through Sportacus’s mind like a shrill siren. Barely strong enough to keep his eyes open. He traveled here to help his brother, no, that’s not why he was here. He was here because he still had hope. Anton had ulterior motives, but when didn’t he? As a child he didn’t. They worked together as children. What happened? Blood. Anton was crying when Sportacus found him with a pair of bloody shears, his prominent pointed ears sliced off just above the earlobe. Nothing was the same after that moment. They became enemies at home, during training, and Sportacus hoped that they became allies today. It was a false hope.

“Wait,” Sportacus said, his own volume surprised him. “Please, there are two girls here. They need to get home.” Tears rolled down his cheeks and intermingled with the smeared lipstick, “I will die for Anton’s sins as long as they get home. Safe.”

Glanni sighed. “It seems as if that’s what’s going to happen. What a—”

“I told you, Glanni, I needed his help.”

“—shame.” Glanni continued ignoring Anton’s outburst, “Robbie was so sweet on you, Sportacus.”

“Tell him: I’m sorry,” whispered Sportacus.

_Click_.

***

Security caught on, Stephanie’s hair was brighter than most everything else in the club and they eventually noticed. Trixie and Stephanie dodged around club goers and hid in the women’s bathroom. “The door’s unguarded,” said Trixie.

“It could be locked,” said Stephanie. The music filtered through the thin walls to drown out their voices and couldn’t be heard by the other women in the restroom. She sat on the closed toilet but still placed an environmentally unfriendly amount of toilet paper down to cover it first. “You think we lost them?” She spoke in reference to security.

“I don’t know,” Trixie again counted the pebbles she had collected as ammo for her slingshot before she shoved the pebbles back into her pocket. “We’re running out of time, either way, we have to get in there.”

_Knock knock_ on their stall door. Trixie and Stephanie looked anxiously at each other, neither of them breathed. “Uh,” said Stephanie and she cleared her throat to attempt to speak with a deeper, adult voice, “Occupied.”

“Let’s talk,” said a woman outside the stall door. Her voice had a similar lilt and accent to Sportacus, Stephanie noticed, or maybe that was her imagination. “Children aren’t allowed in nightclubs but you two seem to have a purpose here. Otherwise, the security would’ve found you and tossed you out ages ago.”

“Darn straight we have a purpose,” said Trixie.

“Our friend is here,” said Stephanie, “We think he’s in a lot of trouble.”

“We know he’s in trouble,” said Trixie. She unlocked the stall door and swung it open. “We’re not leaving here without him.” She stood tall and held her chin high to muster to all the courage held inside her eight year old body to face the woman talking to them.

Klara nodded and brushed a long lock of curly brown hair over her shoulder, “That’s very brave of you to want to help your friend but it can be dangerous for young girls like yourselves.” Hands on her waist she smiled at the girls, “So you’re going to need some help. My name is Klara. What’s your names?”

Trixie poked her head out of the stall to look both ways to see if anyone was listening. “I’m Trixie and Pinkie’s name is Stephanie. My gut says that Sportacus—”

Klara raised an eyebrow, “Sportacus?”

Trixie took a deep breath to say, first of all that it was rude to interrupt someone while they were speaking and, second, to ask if she stuttered. However, Trixie was cut off by Stephanie.

“Spartak.” Stephanie nudged Trixie to remind her what Anton said earlier. “We just call him Sportacus as, uh, a nickname.”

“Ah,” said Klara seemingly unconvinced.

“Anyway,” continued Trixie with a grimace. “My gut says he and his brother, Anton, are in the back room. We think we saw them earlier, but we don’t know how to get in because we’ve been dodging security all night.”

“Yeah, we thought they sent you in after us,” said Stephanie.

Klara shrugged, “They did but they’re a bunch of meatheads. Girls got to stick together, right?” She winked and Stephanie smiled. Trixie, however, did not. “So, Spartak is Anton Poldark’s brother, huh?” Klara looked at the white tiled ground and clicked her tongue. “You think they’re in the back, and Spartak is in trouble?

Stephanie nodded, “We know he’s in trouble. He’s so nice.”

“Too nice,” muttered Trixie.

Stephanie nodded, “That when Anton asked Spartak for help he obliged, I don’t think he really wanted to but he always told us to help our families the best we can.” She readjusted her purse on her shoulder, the apple buldged out the slim design. “We don’t really know Anton but he doesn’t seem like a good person. I don’t like Spor—Spartak—being alone with him.”

Trixie crossed her arms over her chest, “I knew Anton was bad the second I saw him. Even before he threatened Robbie. No wondered Sport lied about being related.”

A deep frown was set on Klara’s face and she drummed her well manicured fingers on her hips, “Ah, that’s not good. The owner spends a lot of his time in the back room. He has a lot of influence so they must’ve come to beg him for a favor.” A group of loud woman burst into the bathroom in a cloud of alcohol induced chatter. “We've spent too long here for comfort and we need to figure out a plan of attack.”

“I like the sound of that,” said Trixie. Frankly, she liked the idea of attacking Anton for all he’s done in the last day or so.

Security personnel, two of them, waited outside the women’s restroom. One man held out his hand in front of Klara to stop her in her tracks but, with her hands on Stephanie’s and Trixie’s shoulders, walked around security. He shouted in Russian at Klara to be heard over the music. Klara spoke, not yelled, loud enough to be heard, by the security personnel. The second security personnel also blocked their path before he too yelled at Klara with a lot of gesturing at the two girls. Neither of which could understand a word they were saying.

At the bar, Tatiana rolled her eyes at the man’s proposal to leave and go back to his place. Honestly, she felt equal parts of second hand embarrassment and disgust. She could read this sad man like a book: small weak man unable to take control that couldn’t get it up without niche pornography. Frankly, she could have more fun with a vibrator with dying batteries and a fifth of vodka. He continued his desperate attempts at flirting while Tatiana debated the merits of a second shot while staring out at the dance floor. Something pink and gaudy caught her eye near the outskirts of the dance floor. Teeth bared in a sneer, she slammed the man away from her before she pushed her way through the crowd of people to reach the girls. “What part of staying out of the way did you not understand?” She grabbed the two of them, roughly, by the arms. Red nails cut into flesh as she pulled them through the club to the kitchen doors.

“Excuse me,” said Klara as she followed behind, security seemed to know better than to intervene, “Are you their guardian?”

Tatiana laughed in reply.

Klara stepped in front of her to block her way, “Listen. They seemed really concerned about their friend, Spartak, who came here with his brother. Do you know them? Could you tell me why they need to speak with Mr. Glæpur? I might be able to help put their minds at ease.”

Tatiana rolled her eyes and shouldered past Klara, “Don’t you have drinks to serve?”

_Bang_.

A gunshot rang out from the back room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> I hope to finish this up in the next chapter or so (plus an epilogue, probably.)


	6. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glanni and Anton have a talk; Klara shows her true colors; and Sportacus wants to hear the truth for once in his life with Anton.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Glanni,” said Anton. Teeth bared in a scowl he tried to wrench his arm free from the henchman on his left. Stitches popped, fabric ripped, and the henchman lost his footing for a split second. Anton tried to press his luck and get to his feet. The barrel of Glanni’s revolver striking him in the face stopped him in his tracks.

“Tell him why you needed his help and expertise in this venture, Anton, that’s all I want.” Glanni pulled back the hammer of the revolver with a sly smile. “You don’t have much time. No more lying and half truths. Just tell him.”

Anton spat blood on the floor, “What do you want me to say, Glanni?”

“I told you what I want to hear.”

“I needed him as a body double. Bait. Someone was after me and I don’t know who. He could be useful as bait to lure my would-be assassins into a trap. That good enough for you, Glanni? That’s why I called him, okay, as bait.”

A wide smile spread across Glanni’s face, “Anatosha,” he laughed. “I cannot believe how selfish you can be at times.”

“You got what you wanted,” said Anton. “Let us go.”

The smile showed all of Glanni’s teeth and unnerved the Íþróttssons. “Darling,” Glanni placed the gun against Sportacus’s forehead again. “I just wanted you to see this and know that it was your fault.”

Bang.

***

Tatiana dropped the girls and went towards the sound. It was as much a cue to intervene as anything else in the time she’s known Anton and left the girls behind with Klara. She pushed through club goers and even flipped a waitress’s tray because it was in her way.

“Go outside, and get away from the building,” said Klara and pointed her chin at the kitchen doors. “Be safe. I’m going to help Sportacus, okay?” She cupped girl’s cheeks with her hands and gave them a tight smile. “Sportacus wants you to stay safe, okay?” She turned and ran, in six inch stilettos, after Tatiana and left the girls alone by the kitchen doors.

Blood rushed out of the girls faces, their eight year old bodies quavered like leaves in wind, and they glanced anxiously at each other. Stephanie twisted her hands on the strap of her purse and Trixie felt in her pocket for the pebbles.

Stephanie felt the apple in her purse rest against her hip, she took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. She looked at Trixie, who nodded, and held her chin high. They came all this way for their friend, they were not about to abandon him now. They followed Tatiana and Klara.

***

Sportacus’s chin fell to his chest. Blood dripped to the floor. Anton saw red.

Anton growled and, instead of pulling his arms free of the henchmen, he just forced the henchmen to collide into each other. Disoriented, the henchmen loosened their grips which allowed Anton to pull himself free. He elbowed one in the stomach and the other in the nose.

Anton stood gun in hand. Two henchmen were down. The other two dropped Sportacus and reached for their own guns. “You’ll pay for that you disgusting deviant,” Anton aimed at Glanni.

Glanni held his arms out wide, the empty revolver dropping to the ground, the smile never wavering from his face. The revolver disappeared into a plume of smoke when it connected with the ground. “Darling,” he cooed and waved off the two henchmen to stand down.

The door slammed open, Tatiana shouldered her way through the locked door, “Anton?” She pulled a butterfly knife out of her back pocket, flipped it open, and threw it for Glanni’s shoulder.

Glanni took advantage the distraction, ducked to dodge the knife, grabbed Anton’s outstretched wrist, and pointed the gun at the ceiling. “Tatiana, I presume,” he said with a wink as the knife embedded itself in the long couch in the back of the room. “Too bad that I’m not done with him yet,” he laughed as tendrils of mist intertwined the both of them. “Dasvidaniya.”

Gone. Glanni and Anton disappeared from the room in a cloud of mist. Tatiana swore. Klara rushed over to Sportacus. The girls stood on opposite sides of the doorway and peeked their heads inside. Three of the henchmen stared at the dispersing mist, blinked, and hurried out of the room as fast as they could. The fourth, the bald gentleman who guarded the door and allowed Anton through earlier, however just straightened his jacket before he walked calmly out of the room.

Klara kneeled down beside Sportacus where the henchmen dropped to lay on his side. The short dress slid up her thighs to reveal most of the orchid tattoo and a black garter belt inlaid with a large crystal. The crystal on Sportacus’s bracelet blinked still, blood pooled by his head but, Klara noted, not as much as there should be for an execution. If fact, there was far less. She cradled Sportacus’s neck and rolled him onto his back.

Stephanie and Trixie inched into the room while Klara looked over Sportacus and Tatiana pulled her knife out of the couch. Trixie asked quietly, “Is he okay?”

Stephanie’s voice cracked and her knuckles were white as she twisted her purse strap between her hands. “I have an apple. Sportscandy gives him energy and he makes him feel better. Will that help?”

Lipstick smeared on his lips and a wound on his forehead, Sportacus had probably seen better days, thought Klara. “Sportscandy, huh?”

“It’s what Sportacus calls fruits and vegetables,” Stephanie sniffed as she produced a green apple from her small purse. “It gives him energy to play, jump, and everything else.” She was shaking now, “Sometimes Robbie gives him sugar and he goes into a sugar meltdown but if the kids and I work together we can get some fruit to him and then he’s better than ever.” She held out the apple for Klara to see.

“Ah,” said Klara as she held two fingers to Sportacus’s neck. “He’ll appreciate that when he wakes up, uh,” Klara looked around the room and saw a discarded drink on a napkin on a nearby table. “Hand me that napkin, please, Trixie,” she pointed at the drink. Trixie did as she was asked and Klara dabbed away the blood on Sportacus’s forehead.

Stephanie and Trixie hovered over Klara as she tended to Sportacus. “Will he be okay?” Trixie asked in a very quiet voice.

Sportacus groaned as Klara tried to clean him up a little, “I think he’ll be okay. I know it seems scary seeing all that blood but it’s not so bad, see?” She smiled up at the girls trying to reassure them, “Cuts on the head can bleed a lot more than on other parts of the body but its okay. He only needs a couple of stitches and he’ll be as right as rain.” The girls seemed less than convinced, so Klara patted Sportacus on the cheek, “Sportacus? Can you hear me?” Sportacus’s eyes opened and he looked up at Klara. “Hi there, remember me?” Sportacus blinked a couple of times, “Stephanie here says that some sportscandy will set you right, how’s a green apple sound to you?” Sportacus nodded. “Great.”

Tatiana paced in a tight circle around the area where Anton and Glanni disappeared. The knife was a blur in her hand as she flipped it open and closed again while she walked. “Waitress,” she called out to Klara, “I would like to have a word with you.”

Sighing, Klara balled up the bloody napkin and tossed it aside. “He’s in good hands with you two here,” she said to the girls. “So I’m going to go talk to Tatiana, okay?” The girls nodded and Stephanie kneeled down to push the apple into Sportacus’s hand while Klara stood up and pulled down her short skirt. Neither noticed how Klara knew Tatiana’s name. Klara approached Tatiana, “Yes?”

“Do you know what has transpired here, waitress?” Tatiana asked and brandished the knife in Klara’s face.

Klara shrugged and sidestepped away from knifepoint, “I know about as much as you do right now. Maybe it was magic. Who knows?”

“Oh,” Tatiana grabbed a fistful of Klara’s wavy brunette hair, “You know more than you’re letting on.” She yanked Klara back and spoke into her ear, “I saw that rock on your leg. It matches the one on the brother’s wrist. It matches the one in Anton’s watch. I’m done playing games,” she held the knife to Klara’s throat. “Where is he?”

***

Only a moment ago tendrils ensnared him like a vice but now? Nothing. “Glanni?” Anton pointed his gun straight ahead, “Where are you, you sick fuck?” Anton screamed into the pitch blackness that surrounded him. His breathing was shallow. He pulled the trigger.

_Click. Click. Click._

Magic. Anton hated magic. How did he not notice before today? Chills traveled up his spine but his hands felt clammy inside his gloves. “Where are you?” His watch flashed but illuminated nothing. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here, Anton,” purred Glanni in Anton’s ear.

Anton spun and pulled the trigger.

_Click. Click. Click._

A pink mist bloomed in front of Anton, like a Rorschach ink splatter, “It’s so adorable that you keep trying that.” The mist vibrated with color to the beat of Glanni’s voice. A pair of stormy grey eyes opened in the center of the mist and beneath it a raspberry pink lipsticked mouth smiled wide like a crescent moon.

Anton pointed the gun between the two disembodied eyes, “Show yourself, deviant.”

“Oh,” the floating mouth did not move but remained frozen in that unsettling smile. “I am showing myself, now aren’t I? Here I stand in front of your very eyes.” Tendrils of pink mist crept towards Anton’s feet. “Tell me, are you afraid?”

Hairs on the back of Anton’s neck stood up and he resisted the urge to back away from the neon pink mist. “What is there to be afraid of? You? A sad man who slathers himself in gaudy makeup to forget how his youth slipped through his fingers?”

The mist grew taller as Anton spoke and the edges burned crimson, “Oh, what a delicious mouth on you, Anton.” The tendrils of mist crawled up Anton’s pant legs like spider legs, “No, sweet Antosha.” The floating face in the mist moved to loom over Anton and the mist in front of Anton swirled. “You should be afraid of what you’ve become, Antoninus. Yes, I know your name.”

Anton sneered, a strong wind pushed him to his hands and knees, he yelled, “Enough games.” He slammed the gun on the ground but it produced no noise.

“Look,” The center of the mist cloud was blown clear to reveal a scene on a mountain top. “I know what happened.” Anton looked up to see himself, younger, in his Number Six uniform stand over Sportacus. Anton’s nose was bleeding as were Sportacus’s knuckles.

“They’re going to die,” Sportacus shouted in the mist void. “You can’t just leave, Antoninus.”

“They’re weak,” Anton’s words reverberated in his ears. “If they can’t save themselves we’re just slowing the inevitable,” he laughed. It was hollow and deranged. He ripped the number six patch off his chest. “You’re just like the rest of them, Sport, weak and soft.” He threw the patch into the dirt Sportacus’s feet.

“Antoninus?”

“He’s dead, Sport.”

Pink clouded the image and Glanni spoke again. The floating mouth never wavering, the cloud vibrating purple but the edges remained crimson, “Abandoning your brother and sisters in The Order when they needed you most, Antosha? Even your own flesh and blood? How sad. Imagine your poor father, who believed in helping children to steer them away from amoral lifestyles. How he tried to pass that along to his sons. How he failed when it mattered most.” Another strong gust of wind and Anton covered his head.

Sobbing filled the room, Anton looked up into the void in the center of the mist, and saw a man in gold on his knees. “Do you recognize him, Anton?” Glanni purred in his ear. He did, it was his father, Íþróttaálfurinn, cradling a man in a navy suit to his chest. Blood smeared on his bronze arms and hands as he rocked Sportacus in his lap. “Have you seen your father cry before?”

“Stop it.”

“Have you?”

“Stop it,” Anton screamed and threw his gun into the mist but the image remained. Not even a ripple in the mist. The sounds of his father’s wails filled his ears.

“Listen Anton, to the cries of an old tired elf. He wants to know where he went wrong. He loved his sons dearly, equally, but what if he favored one over the other? Did you believe that? That he loved Sportacus more than you?”

“I’m not falling for your mind tricks.”

Spider legs of mist crawled over Anton’s wristwatch and the cloud vibrated a deep purple. Glanni continued, the eyes hovered over Anton’s shoulders and the smile widened. “He wants to know if that would be the reason for your fall from grace and the eventual murder of his youngest son?”

“I’m not listening to this,” said Anton and he stood tall, his shoulders rolled back, “Magic is for cowards, like you, afraid to fight.” He held his arms out wide, “Finish this, skank.”

“As you command, elf.” The cloud of mist collapsed in on itself and there stood Glanni surrounded by a soft pink aura. He turned Anton’s wristwatch over in his hands, “Did you miss this?”

Anton grabbed his wrist and felt the absence of his wrist watch. “Give it back,” Anton sneered, and lunged. Glanni effortlessly, as if he floated off the ground, avoided the attack and left Anton to fall heavily on the ground. “It’s too classy for someone like you,” said Anton with a punch to the ground.

“You left behind everything, Anton. Your family, your legacy, your people, and even your name and yet you hold onto to this small trinket. Why?”

Anton pushed himself to his feet and stared ahead at Glanni, “It’s mine.”

“Yes,” raspberry pink lipstick smile spread across Glanni’s face. “It’s all you have left.” He dropped the watch and slammed onto its face with the heel of his boot. “Now you have nothing.”

“You’ll die for that,” Anton shouted and lunged but Glanni was too fast for him and grabbed him by the lapels.

Glanni laughed, “Let this serve as a warning, Antosha.” Deep purple crept into the edges of the pink aura surrounding Glanni. “While I admire your little hobby of murdering the villains on The Order’s list of major players,” he chuckled. “If you ever hurt a single hair on my dear nephew Robbie’s head then all your worst nightmares will come true.” He pulled Anton close, “Hell, if you step foot inside Lazy Town again I’ll kill Tatiana. Understand?

When Anton didn’t respond quickly enough Glanni shook him by the lapels and asked, again, if he understood. “Yes. Da. Já,” he said in beat with Glanni’s shakes.

“Good,” said Glanni and let go of Anton’s lapels and clapped his hands on Anton’s shoulders. “Oh, Boris Yelchin was the one after you. He thought that you undercut him on the profits of a sale of plans from that CIA leak. I took the liberty of killing him so we could have this little chat.” He patted Anton on the cheek, “We should do this again sometime, Antosha.” Glanni slammed his stiletto heeled boot in Anton’s chest and sent him flying backwards.

***

A derailed train that slammed into Sportacus’s face would be a great metaphor for how he felt today. Physically a revolver going off against your forehead will do that and emotionally because his family has been a train wreck for the past three decades. Sportacus’s crystal flashed bright white to show his energy returning as he ate the apple. The girls kneeled over him with worried expressions. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said and tried to push himself into a sitting position, failed, and Stephanie helped him the rest of the way.

Trixie frowned, “You don’t seem okay.”

Sportacus, staring straight ahead at a point in the wall, became suddenly aware of something dribbling down his face and a throbbing in the center of his forehead. He sighed and bit through the core of the apple. “Sometimes,” he tried to find the best way to phrase his thoughts to impressionable children. “People say what they hope will be true soon enough.”

“So,” said Trixie, “You’re lying?”

Yes, thought Sportacus. He was so tired and just wanted to fall asleep under the gentle hum of his airship engines with the knowledge that these two girls were back in their own homes and his brother was gone.

“No, not quite.” He chewed another large bite of apple. “It’s more of a thoughtful meditation to ease a person’s nerves.” He scanned the room, his vision hazy from the earlier hit, and one thought echoed in his head: where’s Anton?

Klara grabbed Tatiana’s wrist to pull the knife away from her throat, “I don’t know where he is, no more than anyone else here.” She tightened her grip and dropped to her knee to thrown Tatiana off balance. Hair and fabric ripped but Klara achieved her goal, shouldered Tatiana’s weight, and threw her over her shoulder. A split appeared in Klara’s dress that showed off her garter belt and orchid tattoo and Tatiana sprawled on the ground with a fistful of Klara’s hair. “This dress cost me half a paycheck, bitch.”

“No wonder it looks so cheap,” laughed Tatiana as she stood and threw away the hair.

Metal against wall broke everyone’s concentration. The women took several steps away from each other and Sportacus stood in front of the girls. A moment passed. The adults investigated what made the sound from the back wall behind the long couch.

“It’s a gun,” said Klara.

Tatiana flipped closed her butterfly knife and pocketed it. “It’s Anton’s,” she checked the magazine and cocked the gun. “Well, now we have a better toy to play with, don’t we, waitress.”

“My answer is still the same,” said Klara but squared up none the less. “Like I said, maybe it was magic that whisked your man away, huh, ever think of that?”

“What about magic?” Sportacus rubbed his face and saw his hand come away with blood on it. “Where’s Anton?”

Behind them, in front of the couch, Anton’s wrist watch dropped to the ground. Trixie walked around Sportacus, picked it, and rolled it over in her hands.

“Mr. Glæpur grabbed him and disappeared,” said Klara and shot a look at Tatiana.

Tatiana rolled her eyes and walked around the couch to Trixie and motioned for her to hand over the watch. “Tell me how to get him back, waitress.” When Trixie didn’t immediately comply Tatiana gestured with the gun and raised an eyebrow as if to dare Trixie.

Sportacus stepped between Trixie and Tatiana to block her gun. “We don’t need this, Tatiana, please.”

Heels clicked across the floor, “Indeed, Tatiana,” said Klara and swiped the watch out of Trixie’s hand. “I don’t know where Anton is or how to find him. That’s not my problem. I was only here to keep an eye on Glanni Glæpur, and along came Anton Poldark. This,” he motioned with the watch in her hand, “Does not belong to him. So I’m taking it back.”

“What?” Sportacus grabbed Klara’s wrist, “What are you talking about?”

Tatiana trained the gun on Klara’s head, “Speak, waitress.”

Kara wrenched her wrist from Sportacus’s loose grip, “Just what I said. The Order wants their property back and I intend to give it to them. Maybe I can move up a rank or two.” She stepped back and lifted the ripped section of her skirt to show off the crystal in her garter belt beneath the orchid tattoo wrapping around her upper thigh to Sportacus. “I guess I did show you my orchid, after all.”

Out of thin air Anton appeared and slammed into Sportacus and sent them both sprawling to the floor.

Trixie and Stephanie helped Sportacus to his feet but Anton rolled onto this side coughing violently. Tatiana kneeled and placed the gun on the ground so she could help Anton to his feet. He shook his head and retched for a several minutes while Klara made her way, slowly, to the door. A bullet, one side smeared with pink lipstick, possibly a kiss, clinked to the floor.

Tatiana rubbed Anton’s back, “Anton?”

“I’m fine,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet and wiped his mouth. The gun Tatiana discarded in his hand. “Listen,” he trained his gun on Klara. “I’m going to need my watch back.”

“You stole this crystal, Antoninus. It’s time it was returned, reformed, and given to the proper Hero Number Six. One who deserves it.”

Sportacus motioned for Trixie and Stephanie to move back against the wall, “There’s no need for violence,” he walked behind Tatiana and stood to her left. “Anton, Klara, we can settle this peacefully.”

“Yes,” said Anton. “If you toss the watch over here before I count to three, there would be no need for violence.”

“I’m tired of being Number 29. If I return to base with this maybe I can move up to 30. Perhaps, poor Íþróttaálfurinn will finally have a small sliver of peace again.” Klara tossed the watch up in the air; all eyes in the room followed it, and caught it. “Sportacus, watch over those girls. They’re tenacious, I like that. Anton,” she set her stance. “Let’s see who blinks first.”

“One.” Anton steadied his aim. Klara’s grip on the watch tightened and she prepared to move.

“Two.” Trixie pulled back the pouch of her slingshot and aimed at Anton. No one noticed Sportacus slip the butterfly knife out of Tatiana’s pocket.

“Thre—” Trixie fired and hit her mark. So did Sportacus.

Anton dropped his aim as he grabbed his ear and screamed in pain. Sportacus threw the butterfly knife, closed, at Klara. Her focus was on Anton and the knife hit her square between the eyes.

Tatiana went for the jaw and punched Klara when she let her guard down. She got the watch and pocketed her knife. “Can’t let you have this, waitress, it’s too classy for you.” It was unclear if she spoke about the watch or the knife.

“Three against one, huh,” Klara spat blood on the floor. “That seems fair.” She smirked as she straightened her back and rolled her shoulders.

Tatiana tossed the watch to Anton, who caught it easily, “Life isn’t fair. Get used to it.”

Klara looked at Sportacus, “There’s going to be repercussions, Sportacus, The Order wants his crystal back. They may take yours for this.”

They can. I don’t care,” said Sportacus. He picked up his long forgotten fedora off the ground and gestured with it at the girls to go out the door. They hesitated but hurried along when Sportacus gently pushed them forward. “They know where to find me and when they do I’ll just tell them that you were an accomplice in poisoning another Hero. Then none of us has a crystal.” He followed the girls out the door, “Let’s go, Anton.” Club goers on the dance floor made way for Sportacus’s bloody visage as he guided the girls through the club to the back door.

Anton followed behind him and Tatiana brought up the tail after a sneer at Klara. However, her breath caught in her throat as she watched Glanni appear out of cloud of pink mist on the long couch.

Glanni leaned back languidly on the couch, legs crossed, and hookah pipe in hand. “We should do this again sometime,” he smiled, “I would love to get to know you better, Tatiana.” He waved goodbye and took a long drag on the hookah pipe as Tatiana walked backwards out the door.

Through the kitchen, past angry cooks, and out the back door into the brisk night air. Anton yelled at the driver, standing outside the car smoking, to get the car started. Outside the car, the five of them stood in a circle, Sportacus asked politely for the girls to sit in the car but they refused and he didn’t have the energy to push the matter.

Anton holstered his gun and fastened his watch around his wrist. “That was an experience,” he said with a sigh. “Glanni had the information I needed, Boris Yelchin,” he glanced at Tatiana. “Said he felt cut out of the profits from the CIA leak sale and set up a hit.”

“So the hit get called off?” Asked Tatiana.

“God, I hope,” said Anton. He held his watch to his ear and groaned, “It’s not ticking.”

Tatiana crossed her arms, “What’s our next move, Antosha?”

Sportacus opened his mouth to speak but Anton cut him off, “We lay low until morning,” he said to Tatiana before he spoke to Sportacus with an outstretched finger in his face. “No, Sport, you’re exhausted and, uh,” he gently brushed away a wayward blond curl to look at Sportacus’s forehead, “Still bleeding.” Sportacus knocked his hand away and Anton cleared his throat. “I have a safe house here, in Moscow, you can get some rest and Tatiana can stitch you up.” Tatiana scoffed at that comment and Anton rolled his eyes, “You stitch me up all the time, please,” he looped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “Just this once?”

“Fine.” Tatiana wrapped her arms around Anton’s neck, leaned in close, and whispered into his ear, “You owe me.”

“Every day of my life,” replied Anton and pecked Tatiana on the cheek. “The children can be fed and rest up there, at least think of them Sportacus, they must be exhausted.”

Trixie took a deep breath to puff out her chest, “Excuse you. Do not drag either of us into this disaster you call a life of crime, Mr. Not-Sportacus.” The three adults stared down at this eight year old and, again, Sportacus wondered how prepared she was to kill a man. Unfortunately, at this moment of defiance, Stephanie stifled an involuntary yawn that proved Anton’s point.

The safe house, a one bedroom apartment, was sparsely furnished but it had the bare minimum. Anton murmured instructions to the driver in the doorway to get food. Tatiana unzipped and off her boots. Sportacus took off his jacket and tie, Anton did the same, and laid them on back of the couch while Anton hung his on a hanger in the closet. Tatiana padded around the apartment in a pair of low cut pink socks and pulled the first aid kit from underneath the bathroom sink. Stephanie and Trixie sat down on the couch, away from Sportacus’s jacket, Trixie pouted and Stephanie rested her head on Trixie’s shoulder.

“Sit,” Tatiana said to Sportacus and pulled out a chair from the dining table. He complied and she placed the first aid kit down on the table next to him. “Look at you,” he held a finger under his chin to tip his head back. “Such a mess.” She walked to the kitchen sink to wet a towel and cleaned Sportacus up. “That man really did a number on you two,” she flipped the towel to a clean side and cleaned up the lipstick. “I don’t know whether to hate him or admire his dramatics.”

“Magic users are like that,” said Anton. He sat down opposite Sportacus and Tatiana at the table. He pulled his gloves off with his teeth, took off the watch, and unbuttoned his cuffs. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before, it hangs around him like smoke,” he rubbed his face. “It intermingles with the hookah smoke I think and I just,” he groaned.

Sportacus watched his moves, captivated by the black ink tattoos spread across his hands and wrists. “Didn’t want to see it,” he finished Anton’s thought. Anton nodded and rolled his watch over in his hand.

“You love that thing too much, Anton.” Tatiana said in reference to the watch, “Honestly.” She snapped on a pair of latex gloves, prepared the needle and straddled Sportacus’s lap. “Now,” she turned his head back to face her. “Stay still or this will hurt more.” Sportacus placed his hands, gingerly, on her waist to help her stay balanced while she worked.

Anton seethed and spoke to both of them, “Must you?”

Only Tatiana responded to Anton’s annoyed question, “You asked me to stitch up your brother so I’m going to do just that, Antosha.” One stitch finished and, with a grimace, Sportacus squeezed her waist. “Oh, he has a strong grip.” She rocked her hips ever so slightly with a glance at Anton and smirked when he seethed with anger.

Eyes adverted away from Tatiana, but the tips of his ears pink, Sportacus looked at Anton, “Where did you get the tattoos?”

“Prison,” murmured Anton as he held his chin in his hand, the elbow balanced on the table to watch Tatiana. The watch set out in front of him.

Tatiana’s scissors snipped to finish the next stitch and Sportacus grimaced. “Glanni said you skirted justice. Human and Elven alike. So I assumed that meant you avoided prison.”

“I never served a full term. Either escaped early on, before I even reached the prison, or hired a crooked lawyer to lie and fabricate evidence to set me free.” Anton shrugged, “I’m sure he meant justice as in death. Dramatic fuckers like him usually do.”

Tatiana finished, Sportacus only needed four stitches to close the wound, and snapped off her gloves, “Done.” She wrapped her arms around Sportacus’s neck, a sideways glance at Anton, “I’m interested to hear how you plan to compensate me for my services.”

“Uh,” said Sportacus the tips of his ears deepened to crimson.

A knock at the door alerted them to the henchman returning with provisions and distracted them all. He murmured an apology in Russian when he opened the door and readjusted the bags in his arms. Tatiana used Sportacus’s shoulders for leverage to stand and took the bags from the henchman.

She dropped the bags on the coffee table in front of the couch, “You should eat something, Anton.” He grunted in reply so Tatiana rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she peeled the cover off a to-go food container, “Girls—” Stephanie, her head resting on Trixie’s shoulder, and Trixie, her head resting on top of Stephanie’s head, were both fast asleep on the couch. “—Ah,” said Tatiana.

Sportacus walked around to the front of the couch, “Ah,” he said when he saw the two girls asleep on the couch. He looked around the apartment, saw the bedroom door, and swung it open. The bed was made so he pulled back the covers.

“I could join you, if you’d like,” said Tatiana with a smile.

Gently, Sportacus lifted Trxie’s head off of Stephanie’s, “The game’s wearing thin, don’t you think?” He lifted Stephanie off the couch and carried her in his arms to lay her on the bed.

“You’re too much,” said Tatiana as she sat in a soft chair across from the couch to eat while Sportacus lifted Trixie up in his arms to do the same. Both girls on the bed, he took off their sneakers and placed them beside the bed; unlooped Stephanie’s purse from around her shoulder and slipped Trixie’s slingshot out of her front pocket and placed both of them on the nightstand; Sportacus tucked them both into bed.

“Wait,” said Trxie, her voice muffled by sleep. “I need to know, why are you helping him? Klara was nice, Sportacus, she helped us.”

Sportacus kneeled down beside the bed and rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye. “I know, and I’m thankful for that but—”

“He’s a bad man, Sportacus. Why can’t you see that?”

“Get some sleep, Trixie. We have a long journey in the morning.” He stood up and flattened out the edge of the blankets.

“You hear that, Anton, you’re a bad man,” chuckled Tatiana while Sportacus shut the bedroom door. “Truth from the mouth of babes, yes?” She took another bite of stuffed cabbage but Anton didn’t respond he just stared at his watch as he spun the crown and his frown deepened. “You should have a little fun, Antosha, you got what you wanted and lived. Isn’t that good enough?”

Anton clenched his hand into a fist, “I think the main spring is broken again.” He placed the watch on the table and rubbed his face. “Albert promised me it would last. Albert lied.” He leaned back in his chair to look at the ceiling. “I owe Albert a visit in the morning.”

“Right,” Sportacus spun the chair to face the table and sat down across from Anton, “I have one question, Anton.”

“Only one,” Anton continued to stare at the ceiling. “I figured you would have at least a couple more by now.”

Sportacus reached a hand to touch the watch but Anton snatched it away.

“Careful,” said Tatiana gesturing with the plastic fork, “He’s killed people over that watch.”

Sportacus, breathed through his nose, and looked at Anton. Blue eyes like steel and the wrist watch clenched in his black ink covered hand. Sportacus curled his fingers into a fist in the center of the table and leaned his body on the table. “You hate everything associated with that crystal, Anton, everything. Why keep it?”

Anton mirrored his brother’s posture, “Because its mine.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Anton.”

“I don’t have to, Sportacus.”

“I almost died, Anton, I—” He leaned back in his chair and held a fist to his mouth. He rapped on the table with his knuckles and breathed deeply. “—No more lies. No more half truths, tell me why it’s so important to you. I think I deserve that much.”

The chair scraped across the floor as Anton stood up, he spoke to Tatiana in Russian and she dug in the bag on the coffee table before she tossed an apple to Anton, who caught it easily. “Eat something,” he told Sportacus when he placed the apple in the center of the table. “Get some rest. You have a long journey in the morning.”

Sportacus stared at the apple by his fist on the table while Anton walked away over to Tatiana. He sat on the armrest and Tatiana fed him a forkful of cabbage roll, she chuckled and spoke to him in Russian while she wiped away a dribble of red sauce on his chin with her thumb. Sportacus rested his head on his arm and allowed the exhaustion to just overtake his body. He was tired of fighting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I dragged out a one shot into a long ass fic, literally this is the longest thing I've written in a long time, just because I wanted to write the Russian Roulette scene and I feel like I should apologize for the haphazardness of the whole thing but I don't feel like I should because I'm just here to have a good time with an obscure AU.~~
> 
> Next chapter up soon. Thanks for reading.


	7. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anton's crisis is adverted but Sportacus's crisis is still relevant. Time to take the children home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this is very (very) late in the game, but  
> Disclaimer: I don't like fingerless gloves--I don't care if he wore them in the movie--so Anton wears full gloves with his designer suits.

Dawn light streamed into the one bedroom apartment on the outskirts of Moscow that Anton called a safe house. He pulled his gloves on standing beside the table where Sportacus slept—his back bent at an presumably uncomfortable angle—soundly with his head on his arm. The crystal on his bracelet blinked a soft, annoyed, pink.

Tatiana stepped out of the bathroom, flawless, and yawned, “I don’t understand why we have to go at dawn, Antosha. Albert will be there past noon.”

“Albert owes me for the faulty main spring.” Anton fastened the watch on his wrist out of habit more than anything. “I want to be sure that my watch is first in his queue for the day, yeah.”

Boots zipped up, Tatiana stood in the doorway, “You and that damn watch,” she sighed and swung the door open. Heels tapped against floorboards of the hallway as she walked to the stairway. Quiet, annoyed, murmurings carried all the way back to the apartment on the still morning air.

Anton watched her leave but the soft snores of his brother cemented to the spot. His hand hovered over Sportacus’s back, he debated about leaving without a word but something stopped him, “Sportacus?” He laid his hand in between Sportacus’s shoulder blades.

The deep rhythmic breathing stopped, “Anton?” Sportacus’s voice slurred from sleep. “Just tell me why.”

“Pabbi always told us that if we ever got scared to find our brother because he would protect us. I was scared so I found you.”

Bleary eyes opened and Sportacus struggled to move but sleep weighed heavily on his limbs. He tried to speak but only mumbled something incoherent in Elvish.

Anton patted Sportacus’s back, “You won’t hear from me or see me in Lazy Town again. Okay. Take care of yourself, Sport.” Sportacus’s crystal flashed a darker pink and Sportacus couldn’t fight the overwhelming exhaustion and fell back asleep. Anton sighed let his hand fall to his side. “See? I am capable of telling the truth.”

A man stood in the open doorway, “Mr. Poldark?”

Anton watched Sportacus’s back rise and fell in a steady rhythm, “Da, one moment,” he told the man. He found a piece of paper and a pen to write down instructions for Sportacus when he awoke fully. He slipped the note into the man’s inner pocket of his jacket and patted it, “When he wakes up,” he pointed at Sportacus. “Hand him that, da?” The man nodded, “Good. Take him and the two girls to the private hangar. Do that and you’ll see a bonus. Fail and, well,” he shrugged. “We’ll see.” He patted the man on the chest and walked past him out the door, shutting it behind him.

Two pairs of eight year old hands were needed to shake Sportacus awake in the bright sunlight. “Anton, wait,” Sportacus said, he slammed his fist on the table and the apple rolled in a small circle.

“He’s not here,” said Trixie through a bite of orange slice in her mouth. She found an orange in the grocery bag on the coffee table and shared it between herself and Stephanie. “He and Tatiana were gone when we woke up.” She peeled another slice off the orange half in her hand, “He’s here, though,” she pointed to a man standing in near the door. Sportacus recognized him as the driver from the night before.

The driver stood by the door, held his hands together, and nodded. “Yes, Mr. Poldark, I will take the three of you to the hangar.”

Sportacus stood up and stretched out his back, popping loud enough for Stephanie and Trixie to wince. “Listen, if you want to keep all your teeth,” he said to the man, “You won’t call me Poldark again, yeah?”

“Y-yes, sir, of course,” said the driver. “Whatever you say, sir.”

The girls exchanged glances. Neither appreciated Sportacus’s tone nor the sneer on his face when he threatened the driver. Stephanie twisted the purse strap in her hand. Trixie lost her appetite.

“Good,” said Sportacus and picked up the discarded apple from the night before in the center of the table to hold it in his teeth. He shrugged on his jacket, stuffed the tie in the jacket pocket, and took a bite out of the apple. “Come on, girls. Let’s go home,” he said and picked up the discarded fedora.

The trip back to Lazy Town was uneventful, Stephanie and Trixie were strapped onto the seats and had a presumably more comfortable journey than the first time. Sportacus landed the plane on the empty street leading up to Lazy Town, just like Anton did yesterday, and went about turning off the engine.

“Okay,” Sportacus said as he set aside the headphones. “I honestly hope that you two learned something after all of this,” the girls nodded. “And,” he continued, “I would hope that lesson would be to not be stowaways on someone’s aircraft.”

Stephanie looked bashfully to the ground but Trixie looked Sportacus in the eye, “Yes.”

They shared eye contact for a moment and Sportacus knew that this was a long, long, conversation about right versus wrong and the merits of blood relations in the future. Hopefully after he’s slept for a week and ate an acre worth of produce. “Right, good,” he said and hopped out of the plane. “Go home, take a bath, and eat a healthy meal, okay? I know that’s just what I’m going to do.” He smiled but it felt hollow.

Stephanie jumped out of the plane and walked towards the main gates of town. Trixie jumped out after her but stayed near the plane. She looked up at Sportacus. “He’s a bad man, Sportacus.”

He wasn’t prepared for this conversation, “I know, Trixie.” He leaned against the plane. “I wanted to protect Lazy Town and,” he sighed. “He’s my brother,” he said with a shrug.

“So?”

“Trent loves you, Trixie, even if he doesn’t show it.”

“Can you say the same about Anton?”

Sportacus pinched the bridge of his nose, he wasn’t sure if he could. Not really. “Go home, Trixie. Clean yourself up and apologize to your mother. I’m sure she’s been worried.”

Trixie adverted her gaze and looked everywhere but at him. The mom card is a strong card to play but can be very effective. She nodded and jogged to meet up with Stephanie waiting at the main gates. They looked back to see if Sportacus would come too, but he shook his head no.

Sportacus watched the girls go through the gates into town, hopefully, to go to their homes. His legs felt weak as he surveyed the town and mentally ran down what he needed to do: go to the forest, get his ship airborne, and probably return Robbie’s suit. It was tailored for him, yes, but he felt awkward keeping it. Lastly, the henchman handed Sportacus a note from Anton with coordinates on where he could drop the plane. Sportacus pushed himself off the plane with his shoulders and made a mental note to do most of those things. Later. He wanted to visit Robbie first to get an update about town.

He stared at the main gates but opted to walk to the left along the border wall surrounding Lazy Town instead of through it. Paranoid that if he stepped into town the accusations of kidnapping two young girls would start to fly. Mobs with pitchforks would form and demand his departure from Lazy Town. Forever. The word echoed in his mind. A shudder ran through his whole body.

He walked until he reached Robbie’s lair and looked up the wall, a solid five feet, an easy feat. Yes? Sportacus attempted to jump the wall, stumbled, and landed hard in the grass twenty feet from the billboard. No, definitely not. The fedora slipped out of his hand and rolled along on its brim. “Ow,” he said as rolled to his side. The crystal blinked a steady, warning, pink for the past eight hours but now the color deepened to a bright red. Sportacus debated the merits of sleeping in the grass for a few hours when a figure loomed over him with his fedora in hand.

“Sportaloon,” said Robbie with a tilt of his head. “About time you showed up. Loud girl and pink girl have gone missing.” Robbie rubbed his arm, “They’re blaming me for it.”

 “I’m sorry,” said Sportacus. “They were stowaways on Anton’s plane. I tried to take them back when we landed but Anton’s, uh, girlfriend threatened me.”

Robbie frowned and crossed his arms, “They sound made for each other.”

Sportacus buried his face in his hands and rolled to his other side, laughing. “They do, don’t they,” he laughed a little too long for Robbie’s comfort before he rolled flat on his back. “The girls are home. They’re safe.” He sighed, “Anything else happen while I was gone?”

“Poodle made a machine that shrunk the other kids down to the size of toys. That was a nightmare. He miscalculated the quantum mainframe equations so when they tried to resize themselves they became smaller, half size.” He held his fingers of hand to his forehead in a gesture that seemed grand and dramatic from Sportacus’s vantage point on the ground. “Such a nightmare. I had to forgo my regular post snack nap to make sure they didn’t shrink to the size of ants.”

“Wow, Robbie,” Sportacus yawned. “That’s amazing. Thank you for helping the kids when I couldn’t. It means a lot to me.”

Cheeks flushed in a nice contrast to his purple eye shadow, Robbie rubbed the back of his neck, “I couldn’t give Bessie another reason to skewer my head on a pike.” He rubbed his arms, “She’s spooky when she’s angry.” He looked down at Sportacus half asleep on the grass. “Let’s go into the lair and get you cleaned up. The townspeople can’t see you looking like a mess.”

 Sportacus sighed and held out a hand, “Help me up, please.”

Robbie widened his stance and pulled the dense elf up by the arm the best he could, even though Sportacus had to help partway. Sportacus fell into Robbie’s arms and wrapped his arms around Robbie’s waist. Robbie stumbled back a step but regained his footing. “I called my uncle,” said Robbie. “Right after you left to ask if he knew anything about Anton.” Sportacus hummed against his chest, “Glanni is pretty connected and he’s been hanging around Russia for the past few years, thought he might be useful.”

Silence, Sportacus tilted his head up to look at Robbie, “Glanni. Glanni Glæpur?”

Light beamed from Robbie and a smile spread across his face, “Yes. He said he knew someone fitting Anton’s description, did he help you two?” The smile quickly faded as he looked into Sportacus’s eyes. “No, no, he didn’t help at all, did he?”

“He put simple syrup in my vodka. Kissed me when I was unconscious.” Sportacus pushed up his bangs to show off the stitches in his forehead, “He fired a gun against my head, Robbie.”

“Sorry. He can be dramatic sometimes.” He looped his arm around Sportacus’s waist and led him to the silo that led down to his lair.

“That’s putting it lightly, I think,” Sportacus leaned on Robbie as they walked. “I’m not made for criminal activities or any other kind of illegal bullshit, you know?” He buried his face in Robbie’s chest when they stopped to open the silo hatch and breathed a long, “Fuck,” into the fabric of Robbie’s waistcoat.

“I know. Heroes aren’t good at not being heroes.” The hatch creaked open and Robbie stared somewhere in the middle horizon as he listened to Sportacus swear into his chest. “I think Anton’s habits wore off on you. Are you okay?”

“No, I am nothing like my brother.”

“Are you okay?”

No,” said Sportacus as he climbed down the silo’s ladder. “First, you were you threatened by my older brother—”

“He’s older?” Robbie followed behind him down the ladder and steadied Sportacus at the bottom of the silo and led him to the orange armchair.

“—Yes. Then I was guilt tripped into helping him, I don’t know, probably carry out an assassination. Fly to fucking Russia, find children in the plane—”

Robbie tossed aside the fedora and helped Sportacus out of the jacket, “Stephanie and Trixie?”

“—I’m sorry. Trixie said she wanted to protect me from my evil twin or something. It was sweet but misguided and incredibly dangerous for a pair of eight year olds.”

“She’s headstrong,” Robbie said while he undid the leather bracelet. “Reminds me of myself, really.”

“Yeah,” said Sportacus as he fell back into the armchair. “It’s a double edged sword, I’d say. Uh, let’s see,” he chewed on his thumbnail. “We—they dragged the girls along—went to a nightclub to meet Anton’s contact, your uncle.” He pulled his hand away from his mouth, “Everything after that is a bit of blur. I just remembering meeting number 29 and that neither of us made a good impression on the other.”

Robbie paused as he picked up the fedora, “How many numbered buffoons are there?”

“99, including myself, there should be 100 total but a certain someone refuses to give up his crystal.” Sportacus took a deep breath and changed the subject away from his brother, “As a side note: Nice man, your uncle.”

 Robbie pulled the tie out of the jacket pocket, “In fairness, he can be.” Robbie hung the jacket over his arm. “I always wanted to be as good a villain as him.”

“Robbie,” Sportacus took a deep breath and chose his words carefully to say to Robbie that, no, he could not be as much of a villain as his uncle who would kill someone for dramatics. The only reason he was alive right now is because Glanni and Robbie are close and Glanni knew about his relationship with Robbie. “I love you,” it was true but he hoped it didn’t sound patronizing.

Long fingers wrapped around Sportacus’s wrist to undo the cuffs of his shirt, “I know what that means.” He dropped Sportacus’s arm and undid the other cuff. “I’m a great villain. Take off your shirt, it needs to be cleaned.” He patted Sportacus’s chest where a few drops of blood stained the navy shirt.

“You’re a great villain, Robbie, “Sportacus pushed himself off the chair and unbuttoned the shirt while Robbie hung the jacket and tie on the railing. “You’re my villain. I can’t ask for anymore than that.”

Pneumatic hisses preceded the table sliding out of the Automatic Wardrobe 3000 to display Sportacus’s uniform. “Aren’t you sweet,” Robbie said in a blithe tone while fiddled with the bracelet’s fittings to pull out the red blinking crystal. “Too bad I have to run you out of town next week,” he tapped the number ten emblem to open it before he deposited the crystal back in its original casing. “Shame, that.”

“You’ll have help,” Sportacus left the shoes by the armchair and threw the shirt and pants over the railing with the jacket and tie. He padded up the metal stairs in his boxer briefs, “After how I—and an international terrorist—kidnapped a pair of innocent children they’ll want my head. Hell, you said Bessie was out for your blood on a suspicion. What happens when they find out the truth?” He grabbed the pants and stepped into them but almost fell over.

Robbie steadied him, “Stay here, Sport, rest a little.”

Sportacus shook his head, “No, I need to get my airship airborne again. Besides,” he did a little hop to pull up his pants and fastened his belt. “Sleeping under the hum of the engines is soothing for me and that’s just what I need right now.” He struggled to pull his shirt over his head without the collar pulling on his stitches.

“You can barely stand,” sighed Robbie as he helped pull the shirt down over Sportacus’s chest. “If you try to get that deathtrap airborne in this state you might take out City Hall. Please, take the bed.”

Bronze hands gently pushed away Robbie, “I’m fine, Robbie, seriously. I just want to go home.” He shrugged on the vest, put his boots on the ground, and grabbed the rest of his uniform. “See? Fine.” He tried to jump into his boots. Missed his mark and stumbled against the railing. “I’m fine.”

Robbie gathered up the clothes from the railing, “I’m begging you to, please,” he pressed his forehead to Sportacus’s “Take a damn nap. The bed is your’s and I’ll even set up a white noise machine if that’s what it takes.”

“Can you?” Sportacus pulled away and rubbed his face, trying to block out the light of his flashing crystal. He dropped his hat, goggles, and bracers back on the pneumatic table. Left his boots where they fell over and shrugged off his vest to drop on the table. Padded over to the hidden door of Robbie’s bedroom beside the sewing room and collapsed on the made king sized bed. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Soft snores echoed through the lair and, frankly, Robbie always hated how easily Sportacus could fall asleep. Granted, this time he was exhausted but Robbie’s jealously still stood. He gathered up Sportacus’s suit and to clean and put it away. He did the same with the bits of uniform Sportacus left behind so it displayed nicely in the pneumatic tube. Finally, he set the white noise machine to mechanical hum, a different sound than the functions of his lair itself, and he could hear a contented sigh from the bedroom.

Robbie kicked off his boots and laid down next to Sportacus on the bed. Immediately, Sportacus snuggled into his chest and murmured something sleepily into the fabric of his waistcoat but all Robbie could make out was, “Anton.” Frowning, Robbie held Sportacus close and made a mental note to call the triplets in the morning, thankful to be on good terms with his brothers.

Elsewhere, in a sunlit apartment on the outskirts of Moscow, the smell of sweat hung in the air as a pair of lovers caught their breaths. Tatiana leaned over Anton on the bed to grab the ticking watch off the nightstand. “Explain to me,” she settled on his stomach and held the watch up for Anton to see. “Why the waitress wanted this?” Neither noticed as the sunlight reflected off the glass how the crystal blinked pink.

Anton ran his hand down Tatiana’s back underneath the sheet to settle on her lower back. “They think I stole it so they want it back.” He used his other hand to take the watch from Tatiana, “They’re going to have to kill me for it,” he set it back on the nightstand.

“So coy,” Tatiana let her head fall onto Anton’s stomach, “First you tell me that your brother is a superhero after years of claiming that you’re an only child.” Her gaze drifted to the side, her train of thought derailing. She smiled and rolled to her side but still rested her head on Anton’s stomach, “About him.” She felt Anton’s body tense up and she laughed, “It’s so easy to make you jealous, Antosha, really.”

Anton repositioned the pillow under his head, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“There’s a lot you can tell about a man in a well tailored suit. I, for one, wish,” she ran her hand over Anton’s chest. “That I knew you when you looked like that.” She sighed, “As if you were carved from marble. Beautiful.”

Anton brushed a strand of hair away from Tatiana’s cheek but avoided her gaze, “Ears and all?”

Tatiana rolled onto her stomach. “Granted, that surprised me but,” she smiled and ran her fingers over the crooked edges of his Anton’s ears, “Yes, ears and all.” Her smile widened as his ears warmed beneath her touch. “Now, tell me everything,” she massaged the tips of his ears and watched his cheeks flush. “You can start with your brother being a superhero.”

“He’s not a really a superhero, he’s a slightly above average hero, like what our father used to say. I used to be, too.” He reached over and grabbed the watch off the nightstand. “These crystals,” he traced the crystal in the watch with his finger, “Were used to find people who needed help so we could swoop in and save the day.” He placed the watch back on the nightstand, “They must have a bounty on it so that’s why the waitress thought she could rise up if she brought it back to base.”

The sheet slid down her thigh as Tatiana moved off Anton but stayed close to his side, “So why do you keep it?”

Anton sighed and stared at the ceiling, “It’s all I have left. I can’t go back but I can’t let go, either.” He turned his head to look at her, “Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” she pulled his head close so she could touch her forehead to his. “It’s nice seeing this side of you, Anton. I never thought I would say it, but, I like it.” She kissed him gently on the lips, “The dichotomy of man,” she laughed, “Wait…”

“Elf,” said Anton with a small smile, sleep weighed on his limbs and he rolled onto his side to face Tatiana. “Maybe next time we delve in your past, yeah?” He murmured as he yielded his body to sleep.

Tatiana pulled him close and ran her fingers through his hair “Elf, huh?” he snuggled into her chest. “I’d wish you said something before we fucked the first time.” He looked up at her bleary eyed. “Don’t look at me like that, Antosha, I knew there was something to you the moment I met you,” she said and massaged the tips of Anton’s ears until he began to softly snore. “And I love it.”

The sun shined on Lazy Town and Moscow while the Íþróttssons slept soundly in the arms of their loved ones. Hazy dreams of days long past filled their minds with green field, laughter, and bright smiles. That day they shared one dream:

Twin ten year olds ran barefoot as fast as they could through the soft green grass to see who could reach the apple tree on the hill first. Sportacus slapped his hand on the tree first and won by a hair. “I win,” he said and immediately fell backwards onto the grass. “Yeah,” he held up one arm and laughed.

The tips of Anton’s pointed ears flushed red with exertion and anger but the anger seeped away to laugh along with his brother. Out of breath, he craned his neck to look up at the apple tree and saw two bright red apples on the same branch. “Get ready to catch, Sport,” he said and shimmied up the trunk to climb out on the branch below the apples. He plucked one, “Catch,” and dropped it down to Sportacus.

A minor fumble almost lost Sportacus the apple but he managed to keep it in hand, “Do you think I could be as good a hero as pabbi?” He stared up at the leaves of the tree and how the sunlight filtered through them.

“Better than pabbi, I bet, Sport.” Anton picked the other apple and shoved it into his pocket before he dropped down and swung on the branch. He watched the leaves flutter down on top of Sportacus’s face.

Twigs, dirt, and a couple of leaves stuck in Sportacus’s curly hair when he sat up, “You think?” His eyes large like dinner plates. A huge smile spread across his face to reveal the gaps where his baby teeth fell out, “I bet you’ll be a great hero too, Anton.”

“Nah,” Anton jumped and landed in the grass, stumbled, and fell on his butt. “I rather be a villain. It sounds fun,” he said with a devious grin.

If it was possible, Sportacus’s eyes grew wider, “No,” tears welled up in his eyes and apple rolled out of his hand. “That means we would be enemies.” Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, “I don’t want to fight you, Anton.”

Anton rolled his eyes, stood up, and brushed the dirt off his butt. “That’s not going to happen, Sport,” he picked up the apple and polished it against his shirt before he offered it to Sportacus with a smile. “Here, eat this so you can get energy back, just like pabbi.” Sportacus took the apple and Anton sat down beside him. “We’ll always have each other’s backs,” he wiped Sportacus’s cheek with his hand and left a smear of dirt behind but neither seemed perturbed by it. “Right?”

Sportacus nodded, “Right,” he said, his mouth full of apple. Together they sat beneath the apple tree on the hill that over looked the elf village and ate their apples. Sunlight filtered through the leaves above them and they could hear the chatter from the square below.

It was a good dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading,  
> I died at least three times writing this fic so I hope people have enjoyed reading it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading.


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